River
by brontosaurus
Summary: AU, gypsy!blaine. Living in a small town, working in Rachel's bakery every day, Kurt is rejuvenated by a young traveller. "Kurt had known from the start that there would be times when Blaine would leave. Sometimes for two days, sometimes for a week..."
1. Chapter 1

_[A/N So… this happened. Starting another fic is pretty high on the list of things I shouldn't be doing, but I did it anyway._

_This started out as gypsy!blaine, but to keep it twenty-first century it sort of turned into more like nomad!blaine, with a few New Directions characters in the mix. I wanted to do something simple that didn't have a zillion storylines, with far more romance and sex, so hopefully this'll do the trick._

_Set in America, but my artistic license is that I don't know where in America… just imagine a small fictional town. Kurt and Blaine are in their early twenties. Oh! I also want to emphasise that this Blaine is a little scruffier than we're used to, but in no way is he Darren. He's just got a little more facial hair and a lot less gel. Still the same sweet Blainers._

_Title taken from __**River**__ by __**Joni Mitchell**__ (**spoiler alert:** I lost my shit when I realised they're doing it on Glee. Shout out to __**emerald-elephant**__ on Tumblr for giving me some lovely ideas for titles, only for me to choose something far less imaginative)_

_M for later chapters. I don't own Glee, or any of these characters.]_

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><p>'Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...'<p>

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><p><em>It had been a month since Blaine had gone. <em>

_In the scheme of things a month wasn't much. Just one. When thought of as thirty days, it definitely felt longer though. And seven hundred and twenty hours? Well, that might as well have been a lifetime._

_It probably wasn't the healthiest way of viewing the situation, but Kurt could never seem to help it. Every time Blaine left, he found himself counting the minutes. Every breakfast was a morning spent without Blaine. Every night alone in his bed, somewhat hollow. _

_Kurt had known from the start that there would be times when Blaine would leave. Sometimes for two days, sometimes for a week. The first time they'd spoken about it, Kurt was stunned that he hadn't been able to keep himself from crying. What made Blaine's occasional absences bearable was the knowledge that he always, always returned. He'd never been gone this long though, and Kurt was starting to question whether he could still be sure of that precious fact. _

_Most days he'd walk the old path down by the river and listen for Blaine's familiar voice singing some unfamiliar song, perhaps in an unfamiliar language. Pray for the sound of Puck's guitar, or Britt's innocent, musical laugh. He'd even grown to recognise the flat, dull slap of Tina's bare, leathery feet on the splintered old jetty, and sometimes, heartbreakingly mistook the smack of a duck's wings on the water for her rhythmic dancing. The few times that had happened, he'd found himself quickening his pace, breaking into a run as a smile split his face. He'd round the last bend in the trail, opening his mouth to shout _'Blaine,'_ only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of the empty jetty, bereft of his friends and lover._

_The man who was his lover. _

_Had been his lover. _

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><p>"Kurt!" Rachel yelled, "Take your apron off and get the hell out of here!"<p>

Kurt gripped the mop tighter and gritted his teeth, whirling to face her, "And leave Finn to finish cleaning? You do realise there'd probably be mould growing in the corners if I didn't do this for him every night?"

Rachel crossed her arms and scowled, "Please, give him some credit. Besides, I can't afford to pay you overtime."

"Rachel, do you want to be able to pass any given health inspection? Or, you know, not poison our customers?" He sniffed, "And I don't want overtime."

"Then scoot!" She stepped forward and undid the bow of Kurt's white apron, tugging it from around his waist and snatching the mop, "Go home. Read a book. Get a life."

"I have a life!" Kurt cried indignantly.

"Yes, you do." Rachel stated, "It involves working at a bakery twelve hours a day and never getting out."

"And where exactly am I supposed to go?" Kurt asked, reaching vainly for the mop which Rachel was now holding securely behind her back, "A population of one hundred and fifty isn't exactly conducive to a raging social life."

"You're just not trying."

He rolled his eyes, "Find me dairy farmer who's looking for love, and maybe I'll decide that it's worth the effort."

"I found Finn, didn't I?" She shrugged.

"That's not what I had in mind." He deadpanned.

"Fine! Sorry I mentioned it. Go." She leaned forward on her tiptoes and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek, "I'm giving you a half day tomorrow."

"I don't want –" he began.

"I don't care what you want Kurt Hummel. Now,_ goodnight_."

He stood there for a moment, struggling to think of a fitting retort, before turning on his heel and exiting the bakery. The bell on the door above his head jingled cheerfully as it slammed behind him. It was a refrain he heard so many times in the space of a day that he barely even registered it anymore.

It had just passed five, and the main street of Ainslie was already predictably dead. It was late spring, and the weather was pleasant enough to warrant staying outdoors until after dark, but the mentality of the town's few residents was one of staunch 'early to bed, early to rise.' It may have been a productive regime, but Kurt often found himself lamenting all the crickets unheard and stars unseen. All the bright eyes reflecting in the dark that only he was awake to ponder.

He rented a one bedroom cottage down by the river, and on warm nights he'd often look out over the broad, black expanse and scare himself witless wondering who (or what) all those eyes belonged to. The logical part of his brain reassured him that it was just rabbits and owls, but the smaller, more irrational portion conjured wild images of beasts and sinister strangers. He'd stand the sensation for as long as he could, but after a while his fear would get the better of him, and he'd back up to his screen door (_never turn around when you don't know what's out there in the dark_) and scrabble at the handle until he was safely inside.

These occasional flights of fancy would leave him in his small kitchen, heart racing as he fumbled for a camomile tea bag, but in hindsight he always found himself grateful for the rush. For the adrenaline and alarm that so quickly overcame him and reminded him that he was alive. Everyone else in the town was sleeping, and Kurt Hummel was alive. Living alone in the small town of Ainslie, and working at Rachel's bakery every day but Sunday.

Whilst at work, for reasons clear only to herself, Rachel forced Kurt and Finn to wear starched chefs whites buttoned to the neck, and black and white checker trousers to match. It was far from necessary for her to worry about appearances in a town as small as Ainslie, hers being the only bakery for miles and the only place to buy fresh bread, yet she insisted. The prim and proper _Berry's Boulangerie_. Half of the residents were still incapable of pronouncing it.

Every day when he knocked off, Kurt would unbutton the heavy restricting tunic and make his way towards the river, slinging it over his arm and untucking his blue undershirt from his pants. Today, he ran a hand over the thin layer of sweat that had formed on the back of his neck, and arched his aching spine, attempting to push Rachel's ministrations from his mind. Her lecture about 'getting a life' was the same one she repeated to him on a bimonthly basis. He was well aware that she meant well, but Kurt had lived in Ainslie long enough to be equally aware of how fruitless it was to hope to lead a life any different to the one he already led. It was impossible to broaden his horizons when he was on a first name basis with everyone within a fifteen mile radius, and even more unlikely when his main friendship group consisted of Finn and Rachel, the most charmingly, yet sickeningly symbiotic couple he'd ever been acquainted with.

Still, Kurt spent at least two nights a week in their company, and was generally content. He sometimes got lonely, or craved the company or others when there was no company to be had, but he'd chosen to live this uncluttered life and he would inevitably endure it.

There were two different routes available to reach Kurt's cottage. One of them, the faster of the two, led him through a couple of side streets and straight to his door. The other longer, more scenic path wound down next to the river for a couple of hundred metres, past the old jetty and under the protective, verdant gloom of several ancient, gnarled willows. Weather permitting, he almost always took the river path. He cherished the evocative embrace of the trees and the cool drafts that blew across the water. The whole town was rarely anything but silent, but the silence by the river held a different ambiance for Kurt. It was a silence of ages, that longed to tell its story. It was comforting and incomplete. A never ending parentheses that made Kurt hum with suspense.

Much the same as every day, Kurt had braced himself for that same reassuring silence as he reached the packed mud of the bank, finding himself surprised to hear sound of voices further down the track. Every now and then on his way home, he would come across locals walking their dogs and conversing with one another, but this time he immediately sensed a difference. These voices were singing; rising and falling with the thrum of guitar strings and the padding of palms on drum skins.

He slowed as he reached a concealing bend in the path, curious, but unwilling to progress without first being sure of the scene he'd be disturbing. When the owners of the music did come into view, he couldn't have been more startled.

Moored at the end of the disused jetty was a broad, flat canal boat, hung with rainbow prayer flags, flapping like the wings of striking birds. There were pots of lavender on each corner of its deck, and various items of clothing drying from the handrails. Equally unexpected were the four occupants of the boat, who had set up old folding chairs on the worn wooden planks of the pier.

The one playing the guitar wore his hair in a Mohawk, and cradled the instrument in muscular, tanned arms, bare in a dark blue tank top. A second man was holding the song's melody, his smooth voice embellishing, and ringing clear and deep. A beaten straw fedora sat far back on his head, and his thin white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows as he tapped a small wood and animal skin drum in his lap. Two girls sat next to him; a lithe blonde, and a shorter dark haired girl. The blonde perched on a wicker chair and the other sat cross legged, leaning on her knees as she had her hair braided. From time to time they would harmonise with the man in the hat, or add a whimsical _trei lei lei lei _to his rich vocals_._

The four of them looked exceptionally content. From time to time they would make eye contact with one another, lifting an eyebrow, or quirking a lip, but for the most part seemed absorbed in the curious folk song. The man in the straw hat looked particularly at ease, one bare foot tucked under himself, shoulders relaxed and a tranquil smile on his face.

For several minutes Kurt stood and watched, captivated. Boats rarely passed Ainslie, and when they did, they never stopped. Apparently these four strangers lived on their boat, and had done for quite some time. It looked as much like a home as his small cottage ever would, and brimmed with a sort of rough vitality he'd grown unaccustomed to. He wondered if they were casual travellers or tourists, though both seemed somewhat unlikely.

Eventually their song drew to a close, and he shook himself from his reverie as the larger man lay his guitar on the ground. Kurt cautiously resumed his progress to his cottage, pointedly looking straight ahead, unsure of the sort of reception he'd get from the group. To his surprise, as he drew level with the jetty he was met with a shout.

"Hi, there!" The blonde girl chirped, "Nice night."

Kurt remained walking, though turned his head and offered her a smile and a curt nod. At least they were friendly.

"Hey, hold on!" The man who'd been singing had stood, and was running down the pier towards him. He fell into step with Kurt and offered his hand, "Hi. I'm Blaine."

Kurt looked warily down at his open palm for a moment, before taking it in his own. It was rough and worn under his own similarly work hardy fingers, though encouragingly warm and sturdy. Honest callouses and descriptive scars. He glanced up to meet Blaine's eyes and was thrilled to note that they were a similar clear, russet shade as the river. His jaw was peppered with stubble, overgrown, but not unkempt.

After a silent second, Blaine laughed amiably and extricated himself from Kurt's grip, "I think this is where you introduce yourself…"

"Oh, I'm Kurt." He started, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks, while his eyes shot in any direction but Blaine's face.

"And to think it's usually the locals trying to tutor _us_ in good manners." Blaine chuckled, "Nice to meet you Kurt."

"You too." He countered politely. Introductions out of the way, he expected Blaine to retreat to the boat, but he remained beside him, skipping on every other step.

"So, did you hear us playing?" Blaine asked.

"Some of it." He admitted.

"What did you think?" He asked brightly.

Kurt shrugged, "It was nice, I guess. You all have lovely voices."

Blaine smirked, "But mine's the best, right?"

"It's not bad…" He said warily. It was the best. It was beautiful. That wasn't to say that he was about to admit it to the sprightly stranger.

"So…" Blaine plucked off his hat with a flourish, revealing a wealth of dark curls left flat by the headwear. He inverted the hat, and presented it to Kurt, "Care to offer a token of your appreciation?"

Kurt furrowed his brow, "What, _money_?"

"That's generally the idea." He grinned, "We busk, people give us money."

"I'm sorry... you're busking?" Kurt asked sceptically.

"Yep." Blaine gave the hat an encouraging shake.

Kurt snorted, "I could be wrong, but I thought it was generally prudent to busk to an audience."

"Yeah. You." Blaine said, attempting what must have been his most winning smile.

"And if I hadn't come along?"

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to be opportunistic." He teased.

Kurt shook his head disbelievingly, "Sorry, I don't have any change on me."

"Not even a quarter?" Blaine wheedled.

"No."

His face fell fleetingly, then rapidly lit up again as if a switch had been flipped.

"Oh!" he cried, rummaging in the pockets of his threadbare jeans, "What about…" he began, drawing out a handful of what looked like long thin strips of leather, "… you buy some wears."

He began to clumsily untangle the mess of strands, holding them up so Kurt could see that they were in fact pendants and pieces of jewellery, some of them adorned with stones and polished, coloured glass. He dangled them in front of Kurt's face.

"Each one's handmade. No two are the same."

Kurt eyed the pieces, swinging before him like pendulums, "No thanks."

"They're the perfect gift for your mother." Blaine reasoned, "Or sister."

Kurt pursed his lips, "I don't have either."

Blaine faltered, then added, "A girlfriend, then?"

Kurt laughed, "Yeah, wrong again." He couldn't believe how persistent the visitor was being.

"One day though…" Blaine said, "Just think how impressed she'll be when you give her a beautiful, unique necklace."

Kurt stopped, Blaine skidding to a halt a step in front of him, "So, let me get this straight. My metaphorical girlfriend will be blown away when I give her one of your pendants?"

"She'll be amazed." Blaine coaxed.

"Unlikely." Kurt said.

"Don't sell yourself short." Blaine grinned, "Good-looking guy like you, you shouldn't have a problem finding the perfect, jewellery lovin' gal."

Kurt snorted, trying to not be flattered by the underlying compliment, "Is it necessary that she's jewellery loving?"

"Absolutely essential." Blaine stressed.

Kurt gaped silently, then sidestepped him and kept walking, "Nope."

Unsurprisingly, Blaine hadn't given up, "What about you then? Why not treat yourself?"

"I don't think they'd suit me." He said shortly.

"You'd be surprised." Blaine presented his own wrist, bound in a number of bracelets, "When worn with conviction, they can be quite masculine."

Kurt covered his eyes with a hand, and asked, "Does this pitch usually work for you?"

"Sometimes. I'm told I can be quite charming when I want to be."

"Well, feel free to start anytime." He said, staring straight ahead as his cottage came into view. He knew he was being rude, but what had begun as an entertaining exchange was becoming slightly irritating.

"Hey." Blaine grabbed his wrist gently, urging him to stop and turn to him, "I'm sorry, I just… this is what we do. Mouths to feed and all that."

Kurt eyed him, noting an absence of the pretence and forced charisma from moments before. Blaine replaced his hat, and blinked harmlessly, still lightly gripping Kurt's arm.

"Don't worry about it." Kurt said, "You've at least made my commute a little more exciting than I'm used to."

Blaine chuckled, "The rat race."

"Yeah." Kurt grinned timidly, "We're non-stop out here. Busy, busy."

Blaine smiled in an endearingly lopsided way, then reached back into his pocket, "Here." He said, pulling out a short plait of brown leather and pressing it in his hand, "Have one on the house."

Kurt ran the bracelet through his fingers gingerly, then met Blaine's eye, "Thanks." He said quietly.

"No problem." Blaine muttered earnestly, "Wear it around town. You can be our sandwich board."

"Sure." He said absently, "I'll do that."

"Okay then." Blaine started backing away, "Maybe we'll see you around."

"Probably." Kurt waved, turning and walking slowly to his gate.

"One other thing!" Blaine yelled.

Kurt turned, now twenty metres or so from him, "What?"

"Do you know if there's any work going in town?" he called.

Kurt shrugged expansively, "Sorry, can't help you."

Blaine clasped his hands together in front of his chest in a sort of mock prayer, "Thanks anyway."

When Kurt reached his gate, instead of stepping right through he rested his forearm one of the broad fence posts and clumsily tied Blaine's gift around his wrist. He held it up and ran his forefinger along its oily, irregular furrows and bumps, noting that it did in fact look quite wonderful.

Not as good as they'd looked on Blaine's handsome, tanned arm, but wonderful nonetheless.

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><p><em>[AN So, in case it isn't obvious, I'm kind of making this up as I go along... It's been a while since I wrote in third person too, so sorry that it's a little rusty. I'm sure I'll get over it._

_Anyway, should I continue? If so, spare time permitting, I should be able to get at least one chapter out a week, maybe more._

_Thank you for reading, and as always, if you have any questions, queries, etc. come yell at me on tumblr - **ohmygodstopit(.)tumblr(.)com**]_


	2. Chapter 2

_[A/N Everyone who read last chapter, or reviewed, or sent me lovely encouraging messages on Tumblr, you're all divine. I was more than convinced to continue._

_I still haven't quite got the hang of writing in third person again, but it'll do. There are some bits in this that may seem overly detailed and/or whimsical, but they're all going to pay off later on, I promise.]_

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><p>'I'm going to make a lot of money, then I'm going to quit this crazy scene.'<p>

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><p>That night after dinner Kurt went to sit on the garden bench in his yard with a mug of peppermint tea. When he'd moved to Ainslie he'd harboured quite a few plans to immerse himself in the productive lifestyle of the town. He'd imagined preserving and baking and growing and tending. Trying something new. Assimilating himself a little. As it was, he'd accomplished far more baking than he'd ever anticipated, but had only really managed to cultivate the fresh mint that steeped in his nightly drink, growing it in several pots by his back step.<p>

In company, he put this abject failure down to shortage of spare time. He was constantly working for Rachel, he couldn't _possibly_ tend garden on top of that responsibility. The honest reason, however, and a reason he would never confide, was his solitary life, and his latent fear of the dissatisfaction he'd feel in providing for himself and himself alone. With no one there to chat lazily to whilst he watered the plants, or to share the spoils of a harvest, he simply lacked the motivation. It was possible even just having the most platonic of housemates would have sufficed, but unfortunately that was yet another item to add to Kurt's list of things he found himself lacking.

He'd been sitting cradling his mug for a short while, when again he became aware of distant music drifting down the river to meet him. This time he could distinguish the keening strains of a violin joining the drums and thin ghostly voices. Blaine and his three friends, busking without an audience. Every now and then he even thought he could make out the tone of Blaine's voice in particular, mellow and crooning, and he tipped his head back and inhaled the pleasant dank scent of the river bank as he strained his ears.

Early the next morning Kurt walked to work through the town, frankly not giving a second thought to the travellers and their boat. He worked until midday, alternating baking with Finn, and serving with Rachel, completely unaware that the unfamiliar tune that was persistently circling around his brain was in fact the same one he'd overheard the night before.

At lunch time Rachel shooed him out of the shop with two loaves of bread under his arm _('I probably baked these Rachel, sorry if it's not the most exciting gift I've ever received'_) and further orders for him to 'get out and live his life.'

He proceeded to make his way down to the river path on auto-pilot, half-heartedly contemplating in which way he should spend his unanticipated free time. He unenthusiastically supposed he'd just end up cleaning the house a little bit, or cooking some food for the week. Maybe get through a couple of pages of a book. Nothing exciting. Nothing new. Just the unfortunately necessary daily motions of life as he knew it.

It wasn't until the old jetty came into view that the memory of the previous afternoon flooded back to him. He immediately spied Blaine, sitting alone on the wooden planks, staring intently at his own hands. Only when he grew closer did Kurt realise that Blaine was busy plaiting one of his leather bracelets, much like the one that was circling his own wrist. Blaine had the ends of the three strands caught in the toes of his bare feet as his deft fingers swiftly wove them into one long string. He was humming quietly as he worked, the same battered fedora nestling on his head, and a white singlet stretched over his torso. Even from a distance Kurt could make out a fine dusting of freckles on his shoulders, several shades darker than the fawn of his lean arms, clearly not a stranger to the touch of the sun.

As Kurt watched, Blaine tied off the end of the finished product and held it up to his eyes to inspect, catching sight of Kurt, still ten or so metres away. He smiled expansively and raised an arm above his head to wave.

"Kurt!"

"Hi." He called back, surprised at how glad he was to see him.

"You busy?" Blaine asked.

Kurt thought of his empty cottage and his dull list of errands, "Not really."

"Come keep me company." He patted the slats next to him.

Kurt halted at the end of the pier, eager yet hesitant, "I don't want to disturb you…" He said timidly.

Blaine laughed, "You're really not. I was about to take a break anyway. My boss gives me a half hour for lunch."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "Your boss?"

"Mm, his name's Blaine." He smirked, "The guy's a slavedriver."

Kurt snorted and shook his head minutely, finally relenting and walking to stand in front of Blaine, his work shoes resonating hollowly on the wood, a different sound with every step.

"Well, sit down." Blaine beckoned, "It looks like you're already covered in flour, a little dirt's not going to hurt."

Kurt glanced down at his trousers, dusted with subtle evidence of his vocation. He brushed at his right thigh feebly with the back of his hand, unaccountably self-conscious.

"Come on." Blaine insisted, blinking up at him through thick lashes, delightfully naïve and trusting. A blank canvas of a gaze that welcomed him without question. Childlike and rare. Even in the tight knit flock of Ainslie Kurt couldn't recall ever receiving such an indiscriminately friendly look.

He lowered himself, placing his loaves of bread on the ground and folding his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them resting his chin on his knees.

Blaine watched him settle, then asked, "Have you eaten?"

"No, not yet"

Blaine sprung to his feet, "Then you can eat with me."

Kurt spluttered, stunned at his hospitality, "No really, I'm fine."

"Shh!" Blaine hissed, waving him down, "Stop that. I'll be right back."

He trotted down the pier and onto the boat, ducking his head (though not very far, Kurt noted) as he disappeared into the low cabin. He emerged a moment later toting a plate and two apples, dropping down cross-legged in front of Kurt. He reached into the back pocket of his shorts, extracting a pocket knife, which he opened and proceeded to neatly quarter and core the fruit with. The soft hiss and crack of metal cleaving fragrant skin and flesh. From where Kurt sat he could see the bare soles of Blaine's feet. Dark and dusty and oddly comforting.

Blaine popped a small piece of apple between his lips, and gestured to the slices accumulating on the plate, "Help yourself." He mumbled through the mouthful.

"Thanks." Kurt smiled, taking a dainty bite, swallowing, then asking, "Where are your friends?"

"Looking for work. They've gone into town to see if there are any jobs available, then they'll probably head out to a couple of farms. See if anyone needs any labourers."

"On foot?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"We're not exactly strangers to wandering." Blaine shrugged.

"So, is that what you do? Travel from town to town and take work where you can get it?"

"Pretty much." Blaine closed the knife and stretched his legs out, reclining as if the hard ground were in fact a lavish chaise, cheek propped on his closed fist, "It doesn't always go to plan though. If we like the place, we might stick around and busk a little, but we usually just move on."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "You can survive on the change you get from busking?"

"Just. We don't only play music. Tina dances, I have my jewellery." Blaine pointed to Kurt's wrist, beaming, "I see you're wearing your bracelet?"

"Oh, yeah." Kurt reflexively moved his opposite hand to toy with the strands of leather, "I got a few compliments for it too."

"Good to hear." Blaine smirked, "Anyway, we get enough from selling those to afford food. Sometimes we're lucky and we arrive at a town when there's a market or a carnival, and Brittany or I set up a stall for henna tattoos. That's tends to be a hit."

"Brittany?" Kurt asked.

"She's the blonde." He explained, "She has a much better eye for the tattoo's than I do. Maybe she can give you one some time."

"Hm, maybe…" Kurt said noncommittally.

"Or _I_ could give you one." Blaine offered, "I could use the practice."

"I'm not sure how I feel about being your guinea pig for temporary tattoos." Kurt grinned.

"You should feel honoured! I rarely do anything for free."

"Sure." Kurt snorted, picking up a piece of apple and turning it in his fingers, the edges of it already oxidising, a brown tinge to its previously snowy hue. He hesitated, then ventured, "So, is she your girlfriend?"

Blaine furrowed his brow, "Who? _Brittany?_" He laughed, "No. No, I can't imagine what it'd be like living with those three on that boat if any of us dated. It's a bit of a strain for us as it is. Besides, I'm gay." He added casually.

"Oh." Kurt chirped. This incredibly open man who wasn't exactly hard on the eye, also happened to be gay. He bit his bottom lip while his mind screamed _no big deal._

"_Oh_?" Blaine repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nothing." Kurt started, "Just… so am I."

"Isn't that interesting?" Blaine said, tone neutral and expression passive.

"Yeah…" Kurt scratched the back of his neck, looking at his feet.

"Got a boyfriend?" Blaine asked. His delivery of the query was nonchalant, but Kurt couldn't help but feel a small, pleasant rush in his stomach.

"I already told you I was single."

"No, you told me you didn't have a girlfriend." Blaine pointed out, "So, you are single?"

"Very single." Kurt droned.

Blaine chuckled, a calming deep sound, "I didn't realise there were different levels of 'single.'"

"Oh, there are." He said earnestly.

"And your level?"

"Right now? I'm thinking permanent hiatus."

"Why?" Blaine asked, with what Kurt hoped was genuine interest.

"I thought that was obvious." He picked at the aged wood beneath him with a fingernail, "There aren't a great deal of suitors to choose from in Ainslie." He paused, "Actually, I don't think there are _any_."

"Well, that's a crying shame." Blaine smiled warmly.

"It doesn't bother me that much." Kurt mumbled, ignoring the fact that it bothered him quite a bit.

"No, not the lack of suitors." Blaine added, "It's a shame that you're single."

"Oh." Kurt said again, unsure what Blaine had meant by the open ended statement, "Okay."

"Then again…" Blaine said cryptically, adjusting his hat with one hand, "Maybe it's not that bad."

Kurt had no idea how to reply. Blaine's manner hadn't really grown any more genial than it had been before he knew Kurt was gay, yet he got the distinct feeling he was being flirted with. He'd almost forgotten such an act existed.

Blaine sat up, crossing his legs again, "So what do you do?" He eyed Kurt slowly, head to toe. An intimate gaze that made his palms sweat. "Chef? Cook? Chef impersonator?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh, "God, these stupid uniforms!" He plucked at the knee of his trousers, "I work at a bakery in town for a woman with far too vivid an imagination. Either that or she genuinely thinks this is how bakers dress."

Blaine smiled, "You do kind of look like you belong on a packet of cookies."

"Gee, thanks." Kurt scowled, poking his tongue out.

"I'd buy them." Blaine teased, laughing and cringing away as Kurt swatted his ankle. When he seemed sure Kurt wasn't about to strike him, he indicated the two loaves of bread, "Did you make those?"

"Possibly." Kurt picked one of them up and held it out to Blaine, "Do you want one?"

"No, that's fine." Blaine held up a palm, suddenly solemn.

"I want you to have it." Kurt insisted.

"No, really." Blaine looked down, "I can afford to buy my own."

"What?" Kurt asked, comprehension dawning.

"I don't need charity." Blaine muttered guardedly, almost inaudible.

"Who said anything about_ charity_?" Kurt said sharply, causing Blaine's head to snap up. He held his gaze, "It's a _gift_. You gave me food and company, _and_ you gave me this bracelet, and I want you to have this loaf of bread." He scowled, "Now stop being rude, and take it."

Blaine's mouth had fallen open slightly, sitting stunned for a second before leaning forward and grabbing the loaf in both hands, "Sorry…" He mumbled, his face apologetic.

"It's fine." Kurt sighed, smiling a little, "I understand. I know you probably get treated like that sometimes… like you're… _vagrants_ or something. But I don't think that. You gave me something you made for nothing in return, and I want you to have something I made."

Blaine nodded slowly, "Thank you, Kurt."

"It's nothing."

"It sweet." Blaine insisted.

"Mm…" Kurt blinked, finding it hard to form a response under Blaine's open, rueful stare, "I… I should probably get home." He said finally, "I have a few chores… cooking."

"Oh, sure." Blaine jumped up, offering Kurt a hand up. He took it, again feeling the kind, rough callouses, watching the muscles on Blaine's arm stretch and shift as he pulled him effortlessly to his feet. "You live in that cottage just down there right?" He asked.

"Uh huh."

"Alone?"

"Yeah." Kurt nodded, holding back the _unfortunately_, that sat on the tip of his tongue.

"Maybe we'll come visit you." Blaine grinned, more his amiable self, "If that's okay?" he quickly added.

"Of course." Kurt gushed, "That'd be… that's be nice."

"Great. See you later then." He smiled, squeezing Kurt's hand firmly before finally letting go. "And sorry, again."

"Forget about it." Kurt said distractedly, "I hope you have luck finding work."

And he genuinely did. He may have only just begun to get to know Blaine, but at present the idea of him leaving any time soon filled him with a startlingly acute sadness. He was easy to talk to, entertaining, and as far as he could tell, talented. He was also gorgeous and a potential friend. He might have dared to think that Blaine could possibly even be _more_ than a friend, but he honestly would have been equally content either way.

Ultimately, Kurt resolved that he really wanted Blaine to stay.

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><p><em>[AN Thanks for reading. I have to spend a few days focussing on my other WIP, but hopefully I'll get another chapter done sometime around the weekend._

_Bron x]_


	3. Chapter 3

_[A/N Oops, have another chapter._

_So, there's going to be actual plot and shit next chapter, but first, some gypsy shenanigans. I've never written Blaine as a massive flirt before. It's fun. Also, watch me desperately try to write Tina with what little characterisation she's had on the show, poor darling.]_

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><p>'I wish I had a river so long, I would teach my feet to fly.'<em><br>_

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><p>For the next couple of days Kurt saw nothing of Blaine or his friends. He passed their boat morning and night in the hope that he might run into them, however they were absent with each journey to and from the bakery. He still heard their faint music every night though, and assumed that they'd either found work or were spending their days searching for it. The thought that they may have gained a reason to remain in Ainslie gladdened him, though the notion was laced with a slight disappointment that he may not get to spend as much time with them (with <em>Blaine<em>) as he'd anticipated.

Blaine had managed, intentionally or otherwise, to firmly wedge himself in Kurt's subconscious. He couldn't help thinking about him. About the way he had casually chatted with Kurt. The grip of his hand. The timbre of his frequent, easy laughter. His mind somehow focussed on intricacies he'd not realised he'd been carefully studying. The way his hair curled at the base of his neck, straining at the frayed, bleached straw of his hat, and the thick veins in his arms that were so prominent as his busy fingers fashioned his merchandise.

There was something about Blaine that lingered in his marrow. Something about him that put Kurt at ease, despite his relative unfamiliarity. He was surprised that he wasn't the least bit wary of the man, yet when he tried he couldn't think of a single sensible reason why he should be. He was simply another stranger in a broader world full of strangers. A world far removed from Ainslie. A world Kurt had intentionally left behind.

It wasn't until Sunday, Kurt's day off, that he contemplated making his way down the river with the specific intention of locating the travellers. He figured if they weren't there when he arrived, he could at least sit and wait for their return. To some it may have seemed a dismal way to spend precious free time, but Kurt had nothing better to do. Nowhere better to be.

Nowhere he'd rather be.

He was still tentatively tossing the idea back and forth by late afternoon, when there was a sharp rhythmic knock on his front door. The only regular visitors to his cottage were Rachel and Finn, and he opened the door idly, not expecting to reveal the tall blonde and the striking brunette from the boat.

He gave them a puzzled smile, "Hi."

"We've been sent to fetch you." The brunette chirped.

"What?" Kurt's eyebrows rose.

She tilted her head, "We're celebrating, and Blaine wants you to join us."

"Um, okay." He laughed, "I'm Kurt, by the way."

"We know." The blonde replied.

"I'm Tina." The Brunette curtsied.

"So, you must be Brittany." Kurt pointed to the blonde.

Brittany's face grew blank, and she leant close to Tina, eyeing Kurt suspiciously, "How does he know that? Is he psychic?" she whispered.

Tina grinned indulgently, "No, honey." She addressed Kurt, "You aren't psychic, are you?"

Kurt stuttered, "No, not at all! _Not_ psychic. Blaine told me your name the other day."

"Oh." Brittany sighed, visibly relaxing. She wore a cropped white top and loose green linen trousers that tied at the side, low on her hips, revealing an expanse of flat, tanned stomach. Her feet were bare, and her hair was tied high on her head, a single dreadlock nestled conspicuously in her wild ponytail.

"Anyway." Tina turned back to Kurt, "We've been instructed not to take no for an answer. We'll carry you if we have to."

"I'm stronger than I look." Brittany stated proudly.

Kurt's gaze slid to her toned biceps, "I believe you." He gasped, a little flustered, "And that really won't be necessary. Just let me grab my keys."

He turned and re-entered the cottage, scooping up a jacket and pausing to self-consciously adjust his hair in the small mirror on his living room wall. Once he was satisfactorily groomed he stepped back outside, locking his door and turning as the girls flanked him and simultaneously linked their arms with his, dragging him through the gate and down the path towards the jetty.

He adjusted his pace to their rapid clip, and asked, "So, what are we celebrating?"

"We celebrate every night." Brittany stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

"But this _is _a special celebration." Tina added, "We all got jobs."

"We're shovelling shit at a dairy farm!" Brittany sang cheerfully.

Kurt wrinkled his nose, "Charming."

"Yeah, not exactly." Tina laughed, "But it pays, and they'll keep us on for at least two weeks. It's not just shit either. We're going to help with the milking and feeding."

"I met one of the cows today!" Brittany said wistfully, "It was called Dandy, but I renamed it Blaine. It had the same eyes as him…"

"Britt, I think Dandy was a girl." Tina said gently.

"Does that matter?" She asked, perplexed.

"Of course not, darling." Tina winked at Kurt as he attempted to muffled his laughter.

They soon rounded a bend in the path, bringing into view the boat, Blaine (without his fedora for once), and the man with the Mohawk. Blaine was kneeling on the ground near a circle of banked up river stones, just off the path and nearer to the trees that lined the river. Within the circle was a neat pile of drift wood, and as Kurt watched, Blaine struck a match and held it to the edge of a cluster of balled up newspaper that nestled in the heart of the makeshift fire pit. A seam of red glowed along the edge of the sheet, then caught, flaming up and engulfing first the newspaper, then the smaller kindling, smoking and flickering erratically. Blaine stood, supervising the fire as he wiped his hands on his thighs, an orange glow playing on his face in the falling dark, and casting rich shadows that alternately accentuated and softened his features.

Had Brittany not mentioned it, Kurt never would have compared Blaine's eyes to that of a dairy cow of all things, but dilated in the dusk, wide and watery from smoke, he supposed there was some similarity. If nothing else, he had the docile stare and excessive eyelashes down pat. He'd probably have said a deer though, and the colour of a million inanimate brown things. Coffee, chocolate, roast hazelnuts, earth and stout. A dozen shades, all flecked and irregular, and when viewed as a whole, frankly _incomparable_.

Once within a few strides of the jetty Blaine trained those eyes on the trio approaching, grinning triumphantly.

"You didn't have to carry him then?"

Kurt made an indignant sound through his nose, "You mean you _actually_ told them to? I thought they were kidding!"

"Nope." Blaine grinned wickedly, "I really wanted you to come."

Kurt swallowed dryly, "Why wouldn't I come?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "I guess I just didn't want to run the risk of you getting away with turning us down."

"And when he says 'us,' he obviously means him." The still unknown man with the Mohawk smirked.

Kurt felt his cheeks grow warm, and was glad to have something other than Blaine to turn his focus to. He wildly wondered if he could explain away the flush as being a result of the rising radiant heat of the fire.

"I'm Puck." The man saluted, hand to forehead, and Kurt waved back, "You drink beer, man?"

"Not really…" Kurt said.

"Good a time to start as any." Puck rummaged in a paper bag at his feet, throwing a can to Kurt, which he narrowly caught, then one to Blaine and each of the girls.

Kurt looked down at the can, cold and sweating in his hand, then cracked it open with a hiss. He took a tentatively sip and winced at the slightly bitter, foreign taste of it. It wasn't his idea of ambrosia, but he couldn't deny that the icy liquid and vigorous bubbles felt somehow _perfectly_ refreshing juxtaposed with warm weather and joyful company.

Blaine quietly sidled up next to him as he took a second investigative sip, "You don't have to drink that. I _know_ Puck would gladly finish it for you."

"No, it's fine." Kurt smiled at him, "It's… nice."

"Really?" Blaine asked sceptically.

"Well, no. It's really weird. But it's good weird."

"Okay." Blaine chuckled, "Speaking of good, we ate your bread."

"And your verdict is?" Kurt asked seriously.

"My verdict is that you really need to teach me how to make bread."

"I'm guessing that means you liked it?"

"It was fucking amazing." Blaine whispered.

Kurt beamed, "None of my customers have ever put it quite like that before."

"Then they're too polite for their own good."

Kurt looked down at his hands coyly, "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Brittany and Tina told me you're employed now too." He said, steering the conversation in a direction that made his heart flutter a little less.

"Mm, you're stuck with us for now." He elbowed Kurt lightly, "There isn't enough work for all four of us to be there every day, but I'm still grateful."

_Me too_, Kurt thought.

Behind them, sitting on one of the posts on the jetty Puck had picked up his guitar and started strumming idly.

"Do you all play instruments?" Kurt asked.

"Britt doesn't. Tina plays violin, and I can fumble my way through a few chords on guitar. And the drums too, but that's nothing special."

"I thought I heard a violin the other night."

"You've been listening?" Blaine said brightly.

"Not intentionally. I can always catch a bit from my yard though."

"Have we been disturbing you?" Blaine asked, concerned.

"God, no!"

"You'd be surprised. Not every town takes so kindly to late night folk music."

"I love it." Kurt insisted.

"Really?" He smirked, then raised his voice a little, "Hey, Tina!"

"Yeah?" She turned from the fire where she stood with Brittany.

"Can you guys play something?"

"Sure." She gave a stunning grin, "Any requests?"

"Make it slow."

"As you wish."

She skipped to the boat, returning with a battered violin, starting up a sweet, lazy minor tune. Puck joined a moment later with his guitar in what sounded to Kurt a little like a lethargic tango. They were obviously extremely used to playing together, neither of them hesitating as the melody wove along, harmonising accordingly.

Kurt swallowed another mouthful of his beer, his chest constricting at the beautiful music. It evoked in him a sort of conflicting feeling of longing and peace that he couldn't begin to explain.

By the fire Brittany had begun dancing, her arms above her head and her eyes slipping closed. Her toes ground into the dirt and mud, leaving swirls and furrows, exotic patterns and tracks, impossible to replicate. She smiled serenely as she twirled.

Kurt was abruptly stirred from the sight of her by Blaine removing his beer from his hand and placing it on the ground.

"Come on." He took Kurt's right hand, "We can't let her dance alone."

"We can't?" Kurt said, disconcerted.

"Definitely not. Here." He placed one of Kurt's hands on his waist, before putting his own on Kurt's, resting it gently and chastely before clasping his other hand, "Okay?" He asked.

"I guess." Kurt gasped.

"Relax." Blaine started to sway and turn them slowly.

"I am relaxed!" Blaine's body was at least thirty centimetres from his, but for Kurt that was still decidedly intimate.

"When was the last time you danced with someone?" Blaine asked, breath just noticeably warm on Kurt's face.

"I can't remember."

"Mm?" Blaine squeezed his hand and cocked his head a little, imploringly.

"Um…" He closed his eyes for a second, "My senior prom, I guess."

"Should I be jealous?"

"No." Kurt breathed, "It was years ago, and it was with my friend Mercedes. I love her, but she's really not my type."

"What is your type?" Blaine coaxed.

"I have absolutely no idea how to answer that."

"Try."

"Well it helps if they're male."

"Obviously." Blaine snorted.

"Blaine, I don't have a type."

"Well, what are your views on dark hair?" He asked lightly.

"Probably the same as my views on light hair."

"What about shorter men?"

Kurt laughed, "You're shameless."

"I'm persistent." Blaine moved closer, slightly bridging the space between them.

"Yeah, that too."

"Don't you want to know _my_ type?"

"Would it be presumptuous to say I have a sneaking suspicion I already do?" Kurt breathed.

"Am I that obvious?"

Kurt scoffed, "Are you kidding?"

"Yeah." Blaine smiled broadly.

"Oh my _god_." Kurt ducked his head.

"What?" Blaine asked, bending at the knee and trying to catch his gaze again.

"Are you always this flirty?" Kurt looked up.

"I can't say it's that often I have reason to be."

Kurt inhaled deeply, then quickly said, "You don't need to be."

"Sorry?" Blaine's face fell.

"No, no!" Kurt choked, "Blaine… you don't have to _try_ so hard. Stop trying to charm me. Trust me, I'm charmed."

Blaine, blank faced, blinked a couple of times, inconveniently choosing that moment to look a great deal like Brittany's dairy cow must have.

"You… you like me?" He asked hopefully

"I like you." This time it was Kurt that moved closer, barely two inches between their bodies. Kurt could smell cloves or incense. Something vaguely herbal in Blaine's clothes and on his skin. There were freckles on the bridge of his nose, barely visible in the orange light of the fire. His hand were so warm. Skin _so_ hot.

"I like you too." Blaine said quietly, the most tentative he'd ever been in Kurt's presence.

Kurt chuckled, "Really?" He asked sarcastically.

"Okay, now I'm embarrassed." Blaine scrunched up his nose and shut his eyes.

"For the record, embarrassed Blaine is just as charming as charming Blaine."

"You could have just told me you... like me." Blaine said, "Saved us both the trouble."

"What, because _you_ were being so forthright?"

"I was being highly suggestive, at least." Blaine laughed, moving his hand a little closer to the small of Kurt's back, splaying his fingers in the fabric of his jacket.

"That's an understatement." Kurt leant into his touch, pleasantly overwhelmed, "And I'm not complaining, but I'm also not in the habit of confessing my feelings to… well, anybody."

"I'm honoured." Blaine whispered, staring directly into Kurt's eyes, mere centimetres between them.

"Don't mention it." Kurt breathed, mouth dry.

"I probably will." Blaine licked his lips.

Some way into their conversation the two of them had ceased dancing, failing to notice that at some point the music had also stopped. They were both rudely shaken by Tina's shout.

"Boys! Care for a little entertainment?"

They started, and jumped apart as Tina appeared next to them.

Blaine scowled, "We're doing alright by ourselves, thanks!"

"Sorry." Tina said slyly, not sounding sorry at all, "I think Kurt will want to see this though."

"See what?" He asked hazily, still foggy from his moment of being so close to Blaine.

"Watch." Tina pointed to the fire.

Brittany had a long pole, slightly thicker at either end than it was at its middle. It looked like they were wrapped in rags, dark with some kind of oil or resin.

"What is that?" Kurt asked.

Tina held his hand, pulling gently, "You might want to stand back, _chérie__."_

They retreated to the jetty where Puck still sat, Blaine picking up their drinks and returning Kurt's to him with a bashful smile which Kurt mirrored, turning back to Brittany.

As he watched, she dipped the ends of the pole into the fire one at a time until they caught, then proceeded to twirl the flaming stick. One handed, two handed, above her head. There was a sheen of sweat on her face and stomach and a look of divine concentration on her face, though she somehow made the act seem effortless, not making a single error in her movements. The points of fire left orange and yellow swirls in their wake, much like her toes in the soil. It was as if Kurt's vision was lagging behind her swift, measured movements, unable to keep up as the burning ends sliced the air.

"Impressive, hey?" Puck asked.

"It's incredible." Kurt gaped.

Puck nodded, "I got her to try to teach me once, and I lost half an eyebrow before I gave up. She's one of a kind."

Brittany continued for five minutes or so, until the ends of the pole had dimmed to weak embers. With regret, spots glowing in his eyes, Kurt turned to Blaine.

"I should probably go. I have to work in the morning."

"Me too." Blaine said, his voice a mix of excitement and disappointment.

"When will I see you?" Kurt asked.

"Are you free at all tomorrow?"

"I finish at three."

"You'll see me at three."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from smiling too much, "Okay." He waved to the others, "Bye guys. Thank you for the show."

"You're welcome any time." Tina said warmly.

"Goodnight." Kurt said to Blaine.

"Night. See you tomorrow."

They both hovered for a moment, unsure of how to part, eventually simply exchanging shy smiles.

Kurt walked home slowly through the warm night, giddy and tipsy and thoroughly overwhelmed by how effortlessly the night had passed. He was surprised that he'd had the nerve to tell Blaine how he felt, though once he was aware the sentiment was reciprocated, it seemed foolish not to.

He arrived at his cottage and immediately went to bed, his hair smelling weakly of wood smoke. He was asleep within five minutes, eager to pass the hours until the next day, and his next meeting with Blaine.

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><p><em>[AN Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it. It usually takes me like a dozen chapters for Kurt and Blaine to get this cosy in my stories, so this is pretty novel for me..._

_As always, questions queries, all that jazz, come talk to me on Tumblr: **ohmygodstopit(.)tumblr(.)com**]_


	4. Chapter 4

_[A/N Ugh, I've been so busy and distracted and junk, but here you go! Sorry for the wait, thank you for the __reviews. You're lovely._

_Warning: Brief discussion of minor character death, and cancer._

_Housekeeping:_ _A few people have asked when this is set, and I'm pretty sure I said in my first author's note, but whatever. This is contemporary, twenty-first century, what have you, but understandably confusing because I've not had need to mention appliances and stuff, and Ainslie is so peaceful-little-hamlet-esque. Anyway, note Kurt's use of an electric kettle in this chapter. Oh, high tech, I know._

_OH MY GOD!_ _Did you all hear Lea's version of _River_? Gorgeous, wonderful, divine. I was having a little cry listening to it and being pleasantly surprised they did it justice._ (_I kind of love_ Extraordinary Merry Christmas_ though, so I probably shouldn't get a say... Christmas is like crack to me_)

_Anyway, enjoy. This even has shreds of plot. Gasp! I don't own Glee! (duh!)_]

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><p>'It don't snow here, it stays pretty green...'<p>

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><p>On Monday Kurt had hurried home from work, evading Rachel's queries as to why he was in such a hurry, and swiftly changed into a pair of not-too-formal black skinny jeans, and a grey button down that managed to look smart without giving the illusion that Kurt had tried too hard. In moving to Ainslie he'd definitely lost a whole lot of opportunities to showcase the more extravagant items in his wardrobe, but he was fairly confident in the knowledge that he could make just about anything look good, regardless of how plain.<p>

Shortly after he'd got his hair in order, and double checked for any stray flour, there was a knock on his door. He took a deep breath, centred himself, and swung it open, revealing Blaine; stubble, white tank top and jeans, torn at the knees and worn threadbare at the thighs. Kurt was still a little taken aback by just how stunning Blaine could look with so little apparent effort. It appeared he was even better at it than Kurt was.

"Hi." He chirped.

Blaine had been looking back down Kurt's garden path, and he whipped his head around at the greeting, loudly blurting, "My last name's Anderson. I'm Blaine Anderson."

Kurt blinked, "That's nice..." He said slowly, "I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure we already did introductions."

"Not our full names." Blaine said sheepishly, an obvious blush seeping in high on his cheekbones.

"Oh, I guess not." Kurt said suspiciously.

"Well? What's yours?"

"Um… it's Hummel."

"Kurt Hummel?"

"That's it."

"Okay. Great." Blaine smiled.

Kurt cleared his throat delicately, "Not that it's not nice to know your full name, but… I mean, not even a hello?"

"Hello." Blaine said quickly, continuing to explain at a break neck pace, "So, um… I wanted to ask you on a date and I was lying awake last night thinking about it, and I couldn't stop thinking that it'd be weird to do it without knowing each other's names. So, yeah. Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel." He paused, "Also, I ramble when I'm nervous."

Kurt stared at him, simultaneously dazed by his unexpected outburst, and floored by the almost harmless, yet ridiculously provocative idea of Blaine thinking of him whilst in bed.

Blaine shifted his weight from foot to foot as Kurt gaped, "I'm not getting any less nervous, here…"

Kurt mercifully found his voice again, croaking, "Are you going to ask me out, then?"

"Oh! Shit! Yes!" Blaine's hands flew up, "Uh, are you free at all this week?"

"I have a half day on Wednesday. I'm free from noon."

"Will you go out with me on Wednesday?"

"God, I feel like I'm in high school again." Kurt murmured.

Blaine smirked, "You had a lot of boys chasing you in high school?"

"Sorry, correction." Kurt snorted, "I feel like I'm in a movie_ set_ in high school, that's nothing like my own experience."

Blaine laughed, then narrowed his eyes, "You haven't answered me yet."

"What did you have in mind for our date?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Will your answer depend on my answer?"

"Uh… no, I'm just curious. There aren't exactly a whole lot of settings for hot dates in Ainslie."

"You're expecting a hot date?" Blaine smirked, "I think I can manage that."

"It's a figure of speech." Kurt stated, "And you're flirting again."

"Yeah, I can't help it." Blaine dipped his head and rubbed the back of his neck, "And I have a few ideas for what we can do, but they're all surprises, so I guess you'll just have to trust me or turn me down."

"Alright, I trust you. I think."

"So, that's a yes?"

"That's a yes."

Blaine gave a huge closed mouthed grin that looked painfully supressed, and let out a little squeak of triumph. He wrung his hands in front of him, and Kurt realised that there was something about Blaine's agile hands that gave the illusion that they were always in view. Catching attention and drawing focus even when they weren't strictly in use.

Kurt dragged his eyes away from them and laughed at Blaine's abridged celebration, "That felt a lot more complicated than it needed to be."

"Hey, I'm just the guy asking you on a date." Blaine put his hands up, "You're the one who started interrogating me."

"Hm, I guess it's just my dormant suspicion of dashing young gypsies unexpectedly rearing its head." Kurt sighed.

"_Dashing_?" Blaine asked, again looking like he was desperately holding back a blinding grin.

"Do you want to come in?" Kurt said quickly.

"I'd love to."

"Wait, wait." Kurt looked down, only just noting Blaine's dusty, bare feet, "Do any of you guys _ever_ wear shoes."

"Sometimes." Blaine glanced down quickly, then back up at Kurt, "Besides, I thought it was polite to remove your shoes before entering someone's house."

"Generally not before you leave your own though."

"Technically it's a boat…"

"Get in." Kurt grabbed Blaine by the bicep and pulled him through the door, closing it behind them.

"I'll mop up any dirt, I promise."

"That's so not necessary."

Kurt turned to see Blaine standing in the middle of the main room of his cottage, that made up the kitchen and living area. Couch, tiny hardwood dining table and stove all within a few steps of each other. Blaine was looking around slowly, a small smile on his lips as he took in the cosy furnishings and small vase of pale pink roses that Kurt, though he wouldn't admit it, had picked from his garden and placed on the table in anticipation of Blaine's arrival.

"This is… well, it's adorable." Blaine said, "Seriously, that's the only word for it."

"I always go with 'quaint.'" Kurt offered, standing next to Blaine.

"That works too."

"It's kind of small, but I guess it's just me here. I don't really need the space."

"Hey, you've seen where I live. This is a palace."

"I thought maybe the boat was like, smaller from the outside or something." Kurt ventured.

"No." Blaine deadpanned, "It's a fucking broom closet. We basically sleep on top of each other."

"Not literally, I hope."

"Ha, no. We have little bunks. One of the benefits of being short." He paused, "And one of the few of being perpetually single. I've had the misfortune of walking in on Puck a few times when he's brought girls back to the boat, and as far as I could tell, before I ran out and rinsed my eyes with bleach, you need to be a circus contortionist just to fool around."

Kurt covered his face with his hands, "Oh my god, you poor thing."

"Yeah, I'm pretty scarred." Blaine chuckled, "And his is a _top_ bunk."

"Jesus." Kurt giggled, still rolling around Blaine's mention of always being single. How could someone who came across as such an insatiable _cad_ be constantly single? "You guys must be close friends."

"Yeah. I sometimes think a little _too_ close. I've sort of forgotten what privacy feels like. You live in a tiny town though. It's kind of a different scale, but it must be similar?" He asked.

"No, not really." Kurt said softly, "I mean… I know _everyone, _and everyone knows me, but not intimately. Just a couple of close friends."

"That must get hard." Blaine said gently.

"Yes. No. I dunno." Kurt laughed shortly, shrugging one shoulder, "I'm used to it." He took a breath and gestured to the corner of the room that made up the kitchen, "Do you want something to drink? Tea?"

"That'd be nice." Blaine said.

Kurt moved to the sink, filling his electric kettle as Blaine floated around, brushing his fingers (those unavoidable _hands_) over the table top as he walked towards the window.

"What's that?" He asked.

Kurt turned from where he was fiddling with the tea pot to see what Blaine was pointing at. Under the window, basking in the sun like an opportunistic cat, was a large mixing bowl draped in a tea towel.

"Just some bread dough." Kurt explained.

"You don't get enough baking done at work?" Blaine laughed.

"It saves me money." Kurt reasoned.

Blaine peeled back the towel a little and peered in the bowl, "What's it doing?"

His choice of words made Kurt giggle, "It's rising. The heat from the sun makes the yeast work faster."

"Huh." Blaine pulled the towel off entirely, "Is it ready to… um, bake? Or whatever it is you do next?"

"Mm, should be." Kurt took the now boiling water and poured it over the tea bags, "I was going to leave it until you left, though."

"Can we do it now? I mean, can you show me? You did say you were going to teach me how to make bread."

"I'm pretty sure _you_ said I was going to teach you how to make bread…" Kurt clarified.

"Minor details." Blaine smirked.

Kurt moved over to the bowl, "We can if you want. It's not very exciting."

"Not for you, maybe."

"Not for anyone."

"Hey, you're kind of harshing my curiosity here!" Blaine cried.

Kurt found that hard to believe. _Childlike curiosity_ he thought. Open, sweet and unadulterated. He couldn't say no to that.

"Okay." He surrendered, "Bring the bowl over here. We have to knead it."

He grabbed a wet cloth and gave the table top a cursory wipe, fetching a bag of flour from the bench and scattering it thinly on the table, like ceremonial dirt on top of a coffin.

"Wash your hands." He instructed, watching as Blaine went to the sink and produced a fine lather of soap, rinsing and drying them on the thighs of his jeans. Kurt didn't comment on the idle action, already feeling more like an overbearing mother than he was generally used to. He simply smiled to himself, and lifted the dough onto the table as Blaine joined him, standing just to his left.

"What now?" Blaine bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Um… so, it's all about the feel of it." Kurt began, "Just touch it."

"Get right in there?" Blaine held his fingers out like claws, his eyes bright.

"Yep, get right in there."

"I knew this would be fun." Blaine squeaked, reaching forward, reverently.

_Precious, _Kurt thought, tucking the word under his tongue to keep from uttering it over and over again.

Blaine dug his fingers tentatively into the beige mound, gasping a little as they sank in.

"It's so soft!"

"It's nice, isn't it?" Kurt smiled, "I couldn't tell you how many loaves of bread I've baked in my life, and it's still my favourite feeling."

"So… what do I do now?" Blaine stared up at Kurt, hands comically frozen in the mixture.

"Okay, you want to sort of fold it over and push it down. You have to keep some of the air in it."

"What are the chances that's a whole lot harder than it sounds?" Blaine murmured to himself, sticking his tongue out a little as he began nudging the dough.

Kurt watched Blaine work for a minute, his movements timid and hesitant. After a short while Kurt bit back a trill of laughter and put his hand on Blaine's forearm to stop him.

"Here, let me help." He said without thinking.

"I'm fucking it up, aren't I?" Blaine moaned, "I'm fucking up your bread."

At that Kurt did laugh out loud, "No, it's fine. Just…"

Kurt reached out and put his right hand over Blaine's own, "Do you mind?" He asked.

Blaine shook his head, just barely moving it from side to side, training his dark sidelong gaze on Kurt and breathing, "No."

Kurt's movement had brought their faces within less than a foot of each other, Kurt's arm flush against the length of Blaine's, his shoulder nestled in the hollow of Kurt's underarm as he awkwardly reached over him. Kurt kept his body side on to Blaine's, no other part of their torsos touching. It would have been so easy to lean into Blaine's back, brace himself against him, but he consciously kept that sliver of air between them.

Kurt, with more conviction, grasped Blaine's hand, every bend of his fingers controlling Blaine's, like a marionette.

"Like this…" He said, his voice coming out in a near whisper.

He began to move, the heel of his hand baring down on the back of Blaine's own, firm yet gentle. Impeccably practiced.

It seemed Blaine was almost holding his breath, air entering and leaving his lungs in the shallow puffs of the incredibly cautious. A birdwatcher doing their best not to frighten the wildlife, or a child creeping past their parent's room on tip toe to sneak a midnight snack. Kurt himself was having a fair amount of trouble controlling his own breathing, however unlike Blaine, their close proximity was making his inhalations and exhalations loud and erratic. Hissing past his teeth as he attempted to lower his volume.

"Do you – " Kurt croaked, clearing his throat, "– do you think you have the hang of it now?"

Blaine shook his head, "No." He said hoarsely.

Without taking his eyes off Kurt's, he reached around with his spare hand until he found Kurt's sleeve, grasping his wrist and pulling it around until he was bracketed by Kurt's arms, Kurt finding his chest pressed to Blaine's back as Blaine's hair tickled his left cheek.

"I definitely need more help." Blaine breathed.

Kurt automatically covered Blaine's left hand in the same manner as his right.

"Are you really that hopeless?" He asked, trying to focus on Blaine's face, even though their eyes were so close he was simply a blur.

"I'm so hopeless."

Kurt laughed shallowly, now working both of Blaine's hands, tilting into his back with every lunge forward, "You always seem to know what to do with your hands." He pointed out absent-mindedly, "The bracelets and… and the drums."

"That's all just practice." Blaine said quietly, "Either that or, um… enthusiasm."

"Oh…"

Small pieces of dough were sticking to their fingers as they worked, further fusing their grip. Kurt marvelled at the sensation of flour on Blaine's skin. The warmth of him contrasting with the lifeless cool of the bread. He may have been intimately familiar with baking, but this was something entirely new, and entirely intimate in a wholly different way. Uncommon and exhilarating. He suddenly became extremely aware of the bold heat in his chest moving to his stomach. Of the way they fit together, as if tailored that way. As if they were halves of a pair. Of the way his groin was pressed firmly into Blaine's ass.

Of his arousal.

He pulled away with a sharp intake of breath, absently wiping his dirty hands on his stomach.

"Our tea!" He said, a little too loudly, "Um, I think it's brewed."

Blaine turned to face Kurt, "Tea…" He said vaguely, as if he'd forgotten such a beverage even existed.

Kurt took one look at Blaine's dark, _dark _eyes, bleary and unfocused, and twirled quickly, removing the tea bags from the pot before closing his eyes and tilting his head up, drawing a calming breath into his body and bracing his hands on the bench.

He was pretty sure Blaine was aware of his attraction to him (_how could he not be?_) however he'd just come dangerously close to getting to feel _just_ how attracted Kurt really was.

* * *

><p>A short while later the bread was in the oven, and Kurt and Blaine were sitting on the bench in Kurt's back garden, nursing mugs of tea. They were oriented so that they were facing one another, Kurt's legs crossed at the knee, and Blaine perched with one leg tucked up and under himself, the dark sole of his foot just poking out.<p>

Kurt sighed contentedly, "It's not often I have someone sitting out here with me."

"I still find that hard to believe." Blaine murmured into his mug, blowing steam across the surface in ghostly billows.

"Believe it or not, it's true."

"Do you like it?" Blaine asked, "Having someone… having me here?"

"I do." Kurt smiled, his eyes crinkling and sparkling.

Blaine smiled back, and after a sip asked, "What are you doing in a place like this?"

Kurt knitted his eyebrows, "What do you mean?"

"Are you from here?"

"No."

"Well, it's just such a small town." Blaine shrugged, "It's not often I meet anyone your age around these parts who's here by choice. It's usually just kids who were born, grew up and haven't moved on."

"You can't be any older than I am." Kurt said.

"Probably not, but I know my reasons." He said cryptically, looking into his drink.

Kurt stared at him for a second, but when he didn't elaborate, said, "I suppose I just wanted to try something new… a fresh start."

"Were you running away?" Blaine asked.

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason." He said quickly, "Just… trying to understand."

"I…" Kurt began, then bit his lip, taking a drink to give himself a moment to think.

"Is it personal?" Blaine asked, backpedalling, "If you don't want to talk about it, just tell me to shut up. Trust me, I get it."

"No!" Kurt waved a hand, "I mean, yes it is personal, but it's fine. It's kind of silly I suppose. A little childish…"

"Mm?" Blaine prompted gently, thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks quickly.

Kurt sighed inwardly at the sight. There it was again. That mantra. _Precious, precious, precious. _

The scene convinced him to continue, "Well, I grew up in Ohio, and my mum died when I was nine. It was just my dad and I after that, and it… it ached that she was gone, but we got by. Anyway, I earned a scholarship to a college in New York, and just finished my senior year when my dad got sick. Prostate Cancer." He took a deep breath, "He was such a stubborn man." He said with a sad smile, "He hardly ever went for regular check-ups. I guess he thought he was invincible. By the time they found it, it had spread through his body and… well, it's not like he didn't try to fight. Chemo and every different treatment and cocktail under the sun. I had to reject my scholarship and stay in Ohio to look after him."

"Kurt…" Blaine said, softly. He put a hand over Kurt's knee, and while he'd normally have found such sympathy overbearing, he simply smiled and continued.

"It was kind of awful giving it up, but it wasn't even a question. I didn't even think about it. My dad was all I had, and he needed me. A scholarship was nothing compared to that. He lasted almost a year. He was so sick from the treatment, and… we both pretended there was a chance he'd get better, but I think we knew that he wasn't going to beat it. The doctors didn't give us any illusions, and he just sort of… faded away."

Blaine squeezed his knee gently, and Kurt put one of his hands over Blaine's, hot from the mug and in an entirely different spirit to the frantic way their hands had locked in the kitchen.

"Once he was gone, there was nothing left for me in Ohio. Even if there was, I didn't want to stay. I took care of dad's affairs, sold our house and most of our belongings, and came out here. I don't even know why I chose Ainslie. For a while I was just driving around, living out of my car in motels, and eventually I stopped here, rented the cottage, sold my car and met Rachel and Finn. She took me under her wing and Finn taught me how to bake, and… here I am. I've been here for three years."

"Did it help?" Blaine breathed.

"Leaving? Yeah, it kind of did. I didn't move here to forget about dad or Ohio. God, I'd never want to do that." He sighed, "But… it's so clichéd, but I suppose I had some wounds to heal, and this place has nursed me a little. It's so quiet and so detached. I could kind of just take stock and figure things out without having to deal with the baggage of a college education that was over before it began, or any of those dreams that kind of became horribly_ insignificant_ while dad was sick."

"Did you find new dreams?" Blaine asked, Kurt's thumb absent-mindedly stroking his wrist where it rested.

"More like stumbled upon." Kurt laughed, "I don't know what I was looking for when I left Ohio, but this is what I discovered and this is… this is perfect. This is what I wanted. Uncomplicated and uncluttered."

"I can empathise with that." Blaine nodded, "It's not a little _too_ uncluttered, though? A little too…"

_Empty_ Kurt thought, instead saying, "Lonely? Like I said, yeah. I'm used to it."

"I can't imagine that goes all the way to making it bearable." Blaine said slowly.

_Then how about you stay? _Kurt thought. _Stay, stay, stay with me._

"I get by." He croaked, "What about you, then?"

"Me?" Blaine asked, "Nothing to tell, really."

"Seriously?" Kurt laughed, "You travel around on a boat, selling jewellery and busking, and there's nothing to tell?

Blaine blinked once, then cleared his throat, draining what was left in his mug, and pulling his hand from Kurt's knee, "No. Nothing of interest, just…" He looked around the garden, then back to Kurt, "Do you have the time?"

Surprised, Kurt looked down at his watch, "It's almost five…"

Blaine stood, speaking rapidly, "Oh… um, I'm supposed to cook tonight. You have no idea what Tina gets like when we don't all pull our weight. She'll hunt me down and crucify me if I don't get back soon."

"Oh." Kurt stood too, confused, "I suppose you should go, then. I don't want that."

"Trust me, neither do I." Blaine said, pushing his empty mug into Kurt's hands, "So, we're still on for our date on Wednesday?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Great. Just come by the boat once you've done whatever you have to after work… changed or whatever. Don't worry about dressing up too much either."

"I thought it was supposed to be a hot date?" Kurt said.

Blaine briefly put his hand on his shoulder, and distractedly said, "Like you have to dress up to look hot." He started walking down the path, Kurt hurrying behind him, whirling from the throw away compliment. Blaine turned momentarily at the gate, "Thanks for the tea and the lesson. I really enjoyed it."

"Me too."

"Great. Well, see you soon." He waved, and sped down the river path and out of sight.

Kurt stared at the empty scene. They'd gone from talking about the worst period of his life, to Blaine's abrupt departure in the space of about a minute, and Kurt couldn't help but feel a little hurt by it.

Had he said something wrong? Had he accidentally offended Blaine?

Why was he running away?

* * *

><p><em>[AN Oh, I'm such a tease._

_Hope you liked that. As always, questions, queries, yada yada, I'm over on Tumblr: **ohmygodstopit(.)tumblr(.)com**_

_Bron x]_


	5. Chapter 5

_[A/N So, I've spent three full days lying in the sun writing, and in between working on my other less fluffy, less lazy WIP I couldn't help but get this finished for you guys. All your reviews have been so lovely, it really does make me work faster. Thank you._

_Ahaa… there's a sizable chunk of Tina in this chapter and, well… can I just say, it's really hard to write an existing character when she's had so little development on the show. I probably should have put Santana or Rachel in her place from the beginning, but Santana's in almost __**all **__of my fics, and I wanted to showcase a different character for once. I hope you're all okay with the way I've written her…_

_Excessive author's note over. I don't own Glee, or these characters. Hope you enjoy.]_

* * *

><p>'He tried hard to help me, you know, he put me at ease...'<p>

* * *

><p>In the day leading up to their date, Kurt didn't see Blaine. He wasn't at the boat when he passed it. Just the cosy shell of their life, bobbing a little in the caramel coloured water. Their schedules clashing in a manner that resulted in Blaine coming while Kurt was going, and vice versa.<p>

Kurt was still concerned about Blaine's abrupt departure on Monday night. He hadn't so much _left_ Kurt's cottage as _taken flight_, and the conceivable reasons as to why he'd done so played on his mind. Of course, it was possible that Blaine really had needed to leave in a hurry, but the minuscule chance that Kurt had been the cause was enough to fill him with doubt. The fact that Blaine had still wanted to keep their date was a small consolation, but he couldn't help his self-consciousness.

Then there was the possibility that Blaine had left because he hadn't wanted to talk to Kurt about the intricacies of his life on the boat, and what had led to it. It still left Kurt a little bruised though, given that he'd bravely confided the story of his father's death, and his mournfully failed aspirations. He hardly had a more personal story to tell, and it certainly wasn't something he brought up lightly. Blaine wasn't obliged to reciprocate by disclosing his own life story… but he could have just politely declined. Told Kurt he wasn't ready or willing to talk about it.

Kurt was happy to wait. If he was going to know Blaine for any stretch of time (_god, please let him know him for years and years and years_) then of _course_ he'd wait. As long as Blaine needed.

On Tuesday afternoon, strolling by the boat just in case Blaine _was_ there, he did cross paths with Tina. The sun was still high in the sky, casting long shadows, so crisp they might have been solid. She was slumped against one of the supports of the jetty, a mug at her elbow and a thin, tattered (_loved_?) paperback clasped open in the fingers of her right hand. She glanced up slowly at the sounds of his approach, probably just to give a civil, perfunctory greeting to whoever it was that was passing. He saw the progression of recognition bloom in her eyes, and a smile grace her lips, training his path towards her.

"Hello, you." She said warmly, standing and brushing her hand on her hip, a simple lilac dress hanging serenely on her frame.

To Kurt's surprise, she reached her arms out and pulled him into an embrace, encircling his shoulders firmly as her novel flapped open next to his ear. He hugged her back, not out of habit so much as convention, smelling the marshmallow musk of her old book, and warm cinnamon on her breath that must have derived from her tea. They parted, and Kurt smiled tentatively down at her.

"You look relaxed." He said.

"Mm." Tina stretched, her shoulders bare, though adorned with intricate curlicue patterns of mauve, so dark it almost appeared black, "They only needed three of us on the farm today, and it was my turn to sit it out. I'm basking." She purred, "_All_ day."

"Fair enough." Kurt laughed, "Is that…" He pointed to her decorated tan skin, "Is that henna?"

Tina craned her neck, squinting at the tattoos, "Yep. Do you like it?"

"It's gorgeous." Kurt gasped, "Did Brittany do it?"

"Uh huh. Blaine kept bugging me to let him try, but… well, let's just say his hearts in the right place, but the tattoo probably wouldn't be."

Kurt smiled to himself. He wouldn't presume to have Blaine figured out, but from what he'd learnt of him, and his alarming fervour in regards to the relatively dull process of bread making, that seemed perfectly in character.

"I've never had it done." Kurt explained sheepishly.

Tina continued, "I have a few smaller permanent tattoos, but there's something about covering yourself in something pretty and temporary that's just kind of… nice, I suppose. It's fun." She trailed her right hand over her left shoulder distractedly.

Kurt nodded. He wasn't sure he quite understood the appeal, but supposed it wasn't entirely dissimilar to the elaborate way he pampered his skin, or the special attention he paid to his hair. A little slice of decadent control. And he really couldn't deny how beautiful it looked on Tina's exotic tones.

"So, you have a date tomorrow." Tina smiled wolfishly, nudging his arm with her elbow.

"Yeah." Kurt looked at his feet, futilely attempting to hide his own shy grin.

"Blaine wouldn't stop talking about it last night."

"Really?" Kurt looked up, sounding far more eager than he'd intended.

"Uh huh. He's pretty sweet on you." She sighed happily, "It's very cute."

Kurt laughed breathily, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"I don't think I've ever seen him like this." She went on, "It'd probably be unbearable if it wasn't so adorable."

"Are you sure you should be telling me this?" Kurt asked, internally rejoicing at the fact that, no, apparently he hadn't upset Blaine.

"Maybe not." She shrugged, "I'm just vicariously excited for him. I don't mean to like, scare you off or anything. He's just a kind of passionate guy."

"I got that." Kurt smiled, "Surely… I mean, I can't be the only guy you've ever seen him interested in."

Tina threw her arms up lazily, the pages of her book whispering, "Blaine's sex life is a mystery to me." She sighed, Kurt's blush deepening a little, "He tends to keep that side of himself off the boat, and, well, we're basically nomadic, aren't we? We aren't really ones for tethering ourselves."

Immediately, Kurt's face fell.

"Oh, shit!" Tina shouted, shooting a conciliatory hand to Kurt's shoulder, "No! No, no, no! It's… shit, no. It's not like that Kurt." She stopped, closing her eyes and taking a breath, "This is… I've known Blaine for a few years now, and this is… I just mean, he's never taken to someone like he seems to have taken to you. I don't know if that makes this situation different, but… he's not just going to treat you like a one night stand. I don't… look, he just wouldn't."

"Okay." Kurt said softly.

"God, you're right. I really shouldn't have said anything." She groaned.

"No, it's fine." Kurt said, his stomach hollow.

"We travel, Kurt." Tina said sadly, "It's just what we do, for all our own reasons. That's not to say any one of us couldn't choose to stop if ever we wanted."

"Right."

"I'm not Blaine. Nothing I say means a thing, it's all up to _Blaine_, but… I totally failed, but what I _meant_ to say was, he really, really seems to like you. A lot. Like, _starry-eyed and distracted_, likeyou." She laughed, "He burnt our damn dinner last night. How do you burn _pa_sta? and he keeps singing all these stupid little folk songs to himself..." The ache in Kurt's belly subsided a touch, flip-flopping hopefully, "Just… don't let anything I just said change the fact that you… well, whatever you feel for him."

Kurt swallowed and looked at his hands, wringing in front of his stomach, "I really like him." He murmured.

Tina made a soft little noise, and without warning he felt her hands on his shoulders again, roughly pulling him into another hug, crushing his arms between their bodies.

"Oh." She sighed next to his ear, "Oh, I _love_ it."

She pushed him away from her, keeping her hands on him and beaming, "It's going to be fine." She said.

Kurt giggled weakly, "If you insist."

"I do. I know it."

Kurt had no idea if Tina was merely saying that to put Kurt at ease, or if she genuinely meant it, but the pure warmth in her voice was somewhat reassuring. She'd inadvertently fed a seed of doubt that had already planted itself in the back of Kurt's mind, but she was managing to stunt it's abrupt growth a little.

Maybe it _would_ be fine. He'd only just met Blaine after all. He knew he was getting ahead of himself in his interest in him, but apparently Blaine was too. That had to be an encouraging sign. Maybe nothing would come of their relationship, but he didn't want to start it with the feeling that it was doomed before it began. And Tina was right. If it came up, it was something he would just have to talk about with Blaine.

_When it came up._

"Thanks." Kurt said quickly and sincerely, stamping that thought.

Tina laughed, "There's nothing to thank me for." She petted his shoulder once more, "I'll leave you on your way then. I'd say see you tomorrow, but Blaine made us promise to, 'stay the hell away, or I'll set fire to your beds.'" She imitated him clumsily, voice gruff.

Kurt snorted, "Wow…"

"Yeah, like I said, he's sweet on you."

"To the point of pyromania?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"Ain't love grand?" Tina said dreamily, not seeming to register Kurt's small intake of breath at the _L _word, "Anyway, sorry for being so hopelessly tactless."

The way she said it was so earnest and quiet, that Kurt's shoulders relaxed, and he leant in and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"You really don't have to be." He smiled.

Tina put her fingers to the spot where his lips had been as he turned and walked away.

After a moment she shouted after him, "Okay! I can see why he likes you!"

Kurt chuckled to himself, concluding that the next day when he saw him, he wouldn't bring up Blaine's past. He'd allow himself to ignore all his questions and doubts for just a little while longer. He'd let them both enjoy the moment.

* * *

><p>On Wednesday, dressed for their date in a black tank top and skinny grey jeans (not <em>too<em> dressed up) Kurt picked up his shoes at the door and paused, quickly placing them back on the floor and leaving his cottage in bare feet.

When he arrived at the boat, Blaine was nowhere in sight. He stood on the jetty for a moment, spinning slowly in case he'd simply missed him. He turned to the boat.

There wasn't exactly a door on which to knock, so he tentatively called, "Blaine?"

He heard muffled scrambling inside, followed by, "Oh! Hang on!"

A second later, Blaine appeared in the doorway, dressed in nothing but a pair of green gym shorts.

Kurt swallowed. Blaine was definitely shirtless.

It took a second for him to realise that his gaze was sort of _stuck _on the short, dark hairs that covered Blaine's chest, but once that dawned on him, he dragged his eyes to Blaine's smiling face.

He cleared his throat, "I didn't realise that when you said, 'don't dress up,' you actually meant 'clothing optional.'"

Blaine laughed, turning his palms up, "I said it was a surprise. You're surprised, aren't you?"

"That's one of the feelings I'm having." Kurt said, dazedly, "I'm getting the sense this date isn't going to involve a whole lot in the way of coffee and chit chat."

Blaine waved a hand dismissively, "We've already done _tea_ and chit chat. I like to shake it up."

"Consider me shaken." Kurt murmured.

"I thought we could take a swim." Blaine gestured to the river.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "What with all the bathers I'm wearing."

"Underwear?" Blaine offered matter-of-factly.

Kurt choked, "This is our first date, Blaine. I'd like to save _some_ surprises for later."

He blushed instantly, only realising the insinuations behind his comment after he uttered it.

Blaine's eyes widened briefly, "Um right…" He shook his head as if to clear it, "I'll lend you something to wear."

"But…" Kurt exhaled expansively, "The water looks so filthy."

Blaine furrowed his brow, "You're kidding me. You've been here for three years and you've never been swimming?"

"Do I look like the, 'recreational exercise in less than hygienic waterways,' type?"

"I'm not sure what that looks like..." Blaine said ponderously.

"That looks like me!" Kurt cried, poking himself in the chest for emphasis.

"Really?" Blaine smirked, "Because to me you look like the kind of guy who's willing to try something new."

Kurt snorted, "Are you sure that's not just what you want to see?"

"I think I can see enough of it to work with." Blaine pointedly stared at Kurt's bare feet.

Kurt shuffled a little, "When in Rome…" He said weakly.

Blaine smiled warmly, "When in Rome, jump in the river when the gypsy asks nicely?"

Kurt threw his head back and groaned. He was running out of excuses, and… maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He definitely wasn't getting bored of the sight of Blaine's bare torso any time soon.

Blaine chuckled, "Come here." He gestured.

Kurt padded up to where Blaine still stood on the boat, taking his proffered hand and stepping on board.

"Care for a tour?" Blaine asked.

"Sure." Kurt was extremely curious to finally see the inside of what was ostensibly Blaine's home.

"After you." Blaine bowed a little, making Kurt laugh briefly as he ducked his head and entered the cabin.

He had to stoop a little, Blaine slipping in after him, very close behind in the cramped space.

"This is our living room." He said, his voice loud in Kurt's ear, indicating soft benches built into either side of the cabin, and scattered with cushions and throw rugs.

"Our kitchen." Just past the benches, a small two burner stove, a few cupboards and a stretch of counter top, built snugly into the rear of the cabin.

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, turning him and swivelling with him until they were facing the front of the boat. His chest brushed Kurt's bicep briefly, warm and a little bit tickly from the sparse curls of hair.

Blaine pointed over his shoulder, leaving his hand on it when it fell, "That's our bedroom."

There was a narrow, curtained bunk on either side of the boat, four beds in total, clearly able to be sectioned off from the rest of the cabin by a thick curtain that was fastened at the wall.

"Which one's yours?" Kurt asked.

"Bottom left."

Kurt peered into it, "Very neat." He said.

"Would you believe me if I told you I don't only make it when I'm expecting visitors?"

"Not anymore."

"Damn." Blaine smirked, "Anyway, through that door is our bathroom." The only part of the room that was properly partitioned, set a little distance from the beds, draws lining the walls in the space between.

"You have a shower?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"No." Blaine said, "We've been allowed to shower in the labourers quarters at the farm since we've been here, but we usually use a portable shower… thing. We hang it from a tree and fill it with warm water from the stove, and we have a sort of screen that we can put up for privacy."

Kurt gasped, "Even in winter?"

"I didn't say it was pleasant." Blaine laughed, "And I don't think you want to hear the logistics of dealing with an on board toilet."

Kurt wrinkled his nose, "You're right, I really don't."

"Okay, that's kind of it. What do you think?"

"I think you must be extraordinarily patient to share this with three other people." Kurt deadpanned.

"I'm mostly just pretty relaxed about the whole situation." Kurt felt him shrug behind him, "I did put myself in it, after all. I'd have to have a pretty good argument to justify whining about it."

"That's a far more rational outlook than I'd have if I were seeing it from your point of view."

"Be thankful you'll never have to." Blaine sighed, bringing forth traces of the myriad questions Kurt had vowed to postpone, "Now, let me find you something to wear."

"Oh, yeah." Kurt said grimly, "That."

"Yeah, _that_." Blaine repeated, squeezing past Kurt in an action that resulted in the two of them being chest to chest for all of a second. Kurt held his breath, back rigid, willing himself to keep his hands by his side when all he really wanted to do was reach out and _touch_.

Blaine opened one of the draws next to the bunks, bending down and pushing clothes aside, balling them up indiscriminately, eventually pulling out a pair of navy shorts, identical in all but colour to the ones he was already wearing.

"Here you go." He held them out to Kurt, shuffling past him again and pushing him into the 'bedroom.' He fiddled with the tie on the curtain until it fell across the boat, hiding Kurt from view.

Kurt stood still for a moment, taking a breath and clearing images of olive skin from his mind, before peeling his jeans off, folding them, placing them on Blaine's bed, and tugging the shorts on. They were kind of tight and showed off a whole lot more thigh than Kurt made a habit of baring. He toyed with the hem of his tank top, ultimately deciding he'd rather keep it on.

He pulled the curtain back across, revealing Blaine reclining on one of the boats benches, with a couple of towels in his lap. He sat up at the sight of Kurt, his eyebrows flying up just long enough for Kurt to notice.

Blaine coughed, "I'm a bit shorter than you, aren't I?"

Kurt scowled, "You planned this."

Blaine shook his head slowly, "I wish I had."

"_Stop looking at my legs!"_

"I'm not!" Blaine lied, his gaze shooting upwards, "Are you keeping the top on?"

"Yes, I am." Kurt huffed.

"Okay, okay." Blaine controlled his grin, nudging his head towards the door, "Let's go." He said softly.

He followed Blaine out onto the deck of the boat, over to the prow, where he unclipped a little gate in the railing surrounding the vessel.

Kurt looked down at the barely rippling water, "How hard would it be to convince you I don't know how to swim?"

"Very."

"I've forgotten." Kurt murmured.

"No you haven't." Blaine laughed.

Kurt groaned again, "You go first."

Blaine shrugged, "As long as you come in after."

"I will. But if I feel _anything_ moving in there, I'm out."

"Deal." Blaine smile cheekily, skipping forward and launching himself off the boat, contacting with a splash and disappearing under the surface for a couple of seconds.

Kurt watched nervously as his head re-emerged, treading water and shaking his sodden curls, blinking water from his eyes as it trickled down his face and off his lashes.

He beamed up at Kurt, "Come on!"

"Ugh." Kurt moaned, holding his breath, pinching his nose, and clumsily hopping off the boat, squeezing his eyes shut as he fell.

He felt the river swallow him, cold, not freezing. There was that bizarre moment of acclimatisation as the air in his ears was replaced with liquid, deadening all sounds and amplifying the feeling of being momentarily confined within himself. He trashed inelegantly downward until he felt the chilled sting of air again, blowing a spray from his lips and swiping a hand across his eyes before opening them to see where he'd ended up.

Blaine was bobbing in the water about a metre in front of him, smiling eagerly as Kurt got the used to the act of staying afloat. He was certain he couldn't reach the bottom without submerging himself, and was perfectly content with that fact if it meant he wasn't about to discover something unknown and unpleasant with his toes.

Blaine splashed a small amount of water in his direction, "See, it's not that bad."

"Oh god, don't do that." Kurt cried, "I'm trying really hard not to get any of this in my mouth."

"Sorry." Blaine said lightly.

He reached out and grasped one of Kurt's hands, swimming further from the shore and dragging him awkwardly behind him.

"Not too deep!" Kurt shouted.

"You'll be fine." Blaine soothed, releasing him and ducking under the surface and out of sight, as their movements muddied the water.

"_Blaine!" _Kurt cried indignantly, "What are you doing?"

He breathed in sharply as he felt Blaine swim between his legs, hearing him reappear behind him.

He twirled to face him, scowling and tugging at his tank top where it clung strangely, "Okay, don't do that either."

"So many conditions." Blaine chuckled.

"All of them reasonable." Kurt said, finally allowing himself to smile, then giggle at the way Blaine's hair was plastered to his head, "You look like a drowned rat."

"Says the drowned rat." Blaine replied, tilting back and floating with his arms out, as Kurt experimented with paddling his arms and legs in a circle around Blaine.

Blaine looked at him sidelong, "You getting the hang of it?"

Kurt snorted, "I don't think my aquatic skills have progressed at _all_ since I was six."

"You aren't drowning." Blaine stated lazily, "I think that's adequate."

"Are you just going to lie there?" Kurt panted as Blaine closed his eyes.

"Got to work on my tan." Blaine muttered evasively.

"Um…" Kurt peered at one of Blaine's knees, breaching the surface and brown as a walnut shell; infinitely darker than his own pale skin, "Maybe my standards are lower than yours, but I'd say you're there."

Blaine gave a low laugh, "Thanks." He cracked an eye and focussed it on Kurt's expectant face, "I thought you didn't want to do this…"

Kurt made a frustrated noise through his teeth, "I _didn't_, but now that you've dragged me in here I might as well make the most of it. Now stop teasing me and come and swim, before I sit on your head and drown you."

Blaine floated back upright, smirking, "Is that your unique way of saying you were wrong, and this is fun?"

Kurt put his palms up and directed a sizable wave straight into Blaine's mischievous eyes.

* * *

><p>After half an hour of paddling aimlessly and (despite Kurt's earlier disclosures) one frantic water fight, Kurt had started to shiver and he and Blaine slowly swam back to the hull. Blaine ascended the attached rope ladder first while Kurt clung to the bottom rung, feeling unexpectedly thrilled, and a little exhausted. A few drops of water fell on his head, and he looked up to make sure Blaine was on board before dragging himself onto the ladder.<p>

His arms and legs shook a little at the exertion required to keep himself on the unstable ropes, Blaine springing forward as he reached the deck and grasping his left hand to pull him up. His foot caught on the edge of the deck as he stood, tripping with a pained hiss and falling into Blaine.

"Oops!" Blaine cried, catching Kurt by the biceps as Kurt's hands splayed on Blaine's damp chest to steady himself.

"Fuck..." Kurt said, glancing at his foot briefly to make sure he hadn't broken the skin.

"You okay?" Blaine asked, his hands sliding down Kurt's arms a little.

"Yeah, just –" Kurt looked back up, Blaine's face a great deal closer than he remembered it being, and his own fingers perched on Blaine's collarbone. Blaine was staring him directly in the eyes, mouth slightly open as his thumb brushed back and forth on Kurt's elbow.

"Can I have a towel?" Kurt whispered, Blaine's fingers burning his skin.

"Sure." Blaine said huskily, picking one up from where it was draped on the railing, and unfolding it as he turned back to Kurt.

Before Kurt could react, Blaine had reached around Kurt and draped the sun warm towel over his shoulders, keeping a hold of its corners and returning his open gaze to Kurt's face.

"Warming up?" He asked vaguely, voice low.

Not allowing himself time to think, Kurt stepped forward, closing the space between them pressing his lips to Blaine's softly. Blaine inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. He took a second to respond, finally moving his own mouth slowly, tilting his head to the side and leaning up into the kiss. His broad hands moved to Kurt's neck, the towel falling to the deck as Kurt slid his own hands to the small of Blaine's back and tugged him closer, earning a small sigh from Blaine as their bodies met.

Kurt's head was spinning too much to marvel at what he'd just done, simply revelling in the texture of Blaine's skin and hair and lips, and the tiny heart stopping brush of Blaine's tongue against his that didn't even last a second. His eyes were shut, but he could feel the lean muscles of Blaine's back, and knew that Blaine was perched on tip toe as he gently pulled Kurt's face down.

After a minute they parted, their hands remaining on one another, and their faces close. Their breathing heavy.

"I've wanted to do that all day." Blaine swallowed, "You beat me to it."

"I didn't mean to." Kurt said timidly, a slight blush catching up with his actions.

Blaine grinned and tucked a sodden lock of hair behind Kurt's ear, "Don't worry about it."

* * *

><p><em>[AN Whoops... I promise I meant to have more plot in this chapter, but I decided to split them. They keep ending up longer than I intend, but I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading.  
><em>

_Um… I've also spent the past three days reading 'Franny and Zooey' by __**J.D. Salinger**__, and I think it's made me into a temporary italics whore, in case it wasn't obvious. Sorry. (incidentally, I recommend it. It's like, thin as my pinkie, and sublime. I've decided he could teach the world how to write incredible dialogue. Bastard.)]_


	6. Chapter 6

_[A/N It was about three quarters of the way through writing this chapter that I realised just how much I'm making this up as I go along. Seriously, I have no idea what's going on. Almost._

_Anyway, carrying on directly from last chapter: one part back story, one part exposition, and one part fluff. I hope the fluff's up to scratch. I've been stuck in maudlin Klaine for so long, that I'd forgotten what it was._

_THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed, you're fabulous. And everyone who's been reading? You're fabulous too._

_-tra-la-la- ignore the fact that I'm reusing Joni lyrics already, it's a short song and it's the chorus so it gets repeated anyway -tra-la-la-_]

* * *

><p>'Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...'<p>

* * *

><p>For a moment they just stood there, toe to toe, water trickling steadily down Kurt's thighs, behind his knees and onto his feet. Kurt couldn't keep his eyes off Blaine's, and Blaine seemed to be caught in a conflict between staring back, and watching Kurt's slightly parted lips. His dark gold eyes would scan down for an instant, then flick back up, eventually resulting in him letting out a short breathless laugh and shutting his eyes completely, hanging his head.<p>

Kurt giggled in return, moving one of his hands from where it rested on Blaine's back, and bringing it to tentatively twist in Blaine's chest hair. Blaine opened his eyes again as Kurt's hand continued up to his chin, gently urging his face back up. He still hadn't allowed himself to consider the situation, his spontaneity lending him bravery. He brushed his thumb across his jaw, tangling his fingers in the damp curls at the base of Blaine's neck before impulsively leaning in again and kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

Blaine slung his arms around Kurt's neck. Kurt felt him smile against his lips, and he inhaled and shivered faintly, causing Blaine to pull back a little and cock his head.

"Was that cold or nerves?"

Kurt blinked, "I'm not sure."

"Let's narrow it down." Blaine said tenderly, kneeling and retrieving Kurt's forgotten towel.

Blaine eyed Kurt's hair, but before he could act, Kurt pulled the wet bundle from his hands, patting at the crown of own his head and down his neck. As keen as Blaine appeared to be to dry Kurt off, Kurt was unsure just how much sudden over stimulation he could handle. While the mere intent filled him with a profound mix of excitement and pleasure, he wanted to try his best to remain coherent for as long as possible in Blaine's presence.

Blaine's casually altered presence.

The presence of Blaine now that Kurt had had his lips against his. Now that he'd purposefully felt his bare skin with his hands. Now that he'd heard Blaine sigh from the contentment of kissing him. Of being close to him.

For days they'd been toeing the line of obvious attraction and polite detachment. Fists clenched at sides, bottom lips clamped between teeth, breaths deep and calm. Kurt knew where they stood while they were both repressing their attractions. Now they'd lunged over that line into _some_ form of intimacy that left Kurt dizzy and disoriented.

He completely covered his head with the towel for a moment, just to give himself time to regroup. Once his mind had stopped buzzing with thoughts of pace, and present, and future, and all the other significant yet ill-timed uncertainties that were elbowing for his attention, he smiled involuntarily and re-emerged.

Blaine was gazing at him, also smiling distractedly, "Do you want to go home and change, or do you want to stay?"

"I want to stay." Kurt said, quickly.

"Okay." Blaine chuckled, taking the towel in one hand, and Kurt's own hand in the other, "I'll find you something else to change into."

Blaine dug out another dry towel, and a soft, grey, shawl collar sweater for Kurt. They changed in the cabin on either side of the curtain, and when Kurt re-emerged it was to Blaine wrapped in an oversized, multi-coloured cardigan, hair swiftly reverting to wild ringlets as he placed a kettle on the stove. The hem of the cardigan extended to below the pockets of Blaine's jeans, stretched and well-worn. Every few seconds Blaine would push the sleeves up over his elbows, only for them to slide back down a moment later, engulfing his hands. Kurt's stomach contracted fondly at the sight.

Kurt walked up to Blaine and pinched the loose elbow of his sleeve, taking in the rainbow cacophony of uneven stripes, "That's, um… a bold choice of colours."

Blaine turned and pulled at his lapel, "It's not so much a choice as an obvious inability to make one."

"Where did you_ get_ it?"

"Britt gave it to me." He smiled, "It's my favourite."

"I'm not going to ask why."

Blaine snorted, "If you're through insulting my cardigan, can you take a couple of those cushions onto the deck?"

Kurt smirked, "Well, I wasn't, but – "

"No!" Blaine shouted over him, "Outside. I'll join you in a minute."

Kurt laughed, loading his arms with cushions from the boats 'living room,' heading outside and back to the prow. He hesitated, then dumped them onto the deck and perched himself on a small bench that protruded from the end of the cabin.

He looked at the two pots of lavender that sat on either side of the boat, and inhaled. It was possible that in his delight he was simply imagining that he could smell them, but a sweet fragrance filled his nostrils. Behind him a string of prayer flags fluttered softly, and his eyes kept scanning, landing on the slowly drying wet patch where the two of them had stood and kissed just ten minutes before. His stomach gave another jarring swoop.

Blaine came around the deck with two mismatched mugs in his hands, kicking feebly at the cushions until they were spread out a little, and lowering himself onto them less than a foot in front of Kurt. He crossed his legs, and put one of the mugs between Kurt's bare feet. Instead of drawing his free hand away, he circled it around the denim of Kurt's ankle, and kept a gentle hold of it, gazing up at him.

Kurt would never have thought that intimacy could be found somewhere between his knee and his toes, but the act felt _undeniably_ intimate.

"You're getting your tea and chit chat now." Blaine grinned, "Happy?"

"Actually, I wanted _coffee_ and chit chat." Kurt said slowly, trying not to smirk.

Blaine's mouth fell open, "Well, there's a jar of instant inside, but you can make it yourself."

"I'm kidding." Kurt said warmly, almost reaching out to stroke Blaine's cheek as his mock-indignant pout dissolved.

"I know."

"And I am."

Blaine's lips were on the edge of his mug, "Hm?"

"Happy." Kurt said quietly.

Blaine's face lit up, and he gently squeezed Kurt's ankle in response. Kurt leant down and brushed his fingers lightly over Blaine's before picking up his mug and blowing at the steaming surface.

For a moment they were silent, Blaine gazing down at Kurt's feet and smiling, Kurt content to just _watch_. To just _take him in_. To just _be_ with Blaine.

He took a couple of small sips of tea, and broke their comfortable silence, "Is this your boat?"

Blaine raised his head slowly, looking vaguely dazed and dream addled, mirroring Kurt's own state of mind, "No, it's Puck's."

"How does someone his age end up with a _boat_?"

"He was born into it." Blaine shrugged.

"Born… into a boat..." Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Blaine laughed, "Literally. His parents used to live on the river with another couple. His mum got pregnant, and Puck was delivered here."

"Right here?" Kurt asked in amazement.

Blaine chuckled again, "In the cabin, I think."

Kurt's mouth had fallen open slightly, and his mind rushed and conjured up ideas of the boats history. Two couples, two relationships, at least one life started, birthed within ten metres of where he sat. The same baby still living on the same boat, at _least_ twenty years on. A boat now occupied by an additional three individuals, and almost certainly more before that he was unaware of.

Just how much had a simple canal boat seen? How many lives had been housed in its embrace, coming and going? How many years?

All that. _All that time_, and a spur-of-the-moment kiss he'd shared on the prow with one of those inhabitants. Charged and impulsive, as water from the river below trickled from their hair over their closed eyes and between their merged lips.

Possibly… _just possibly_, a brand new relationship. So important and so insignificant.

Exciting and terrifying and tenuous.

Kurt blinked a few times in quick succession, "Wow…"

"Mm, it's pretty incredible." Blaine nodded.

_Special, _Kurt thought.

"Where are his parents now?"

"A few years ago they moved to live in a house with some friends. They'd been nomadic for…" Blaine's eyes squinted a little as he thought, "… a little over thirty years, I think? Puck told me that his parents used to have a van that they lived out of, and after ten years or so they bought this boat. They made so many connections and met so many people living the same way over the years, that when they decided they'd had enough of it some of their friends were happy to take them in."

Kurt made a small disbelieving noise at the idea that _anyone_ could be so hospitable.

"I know." Blaine said, "I think… I mean, I get sick of living in such close quarters sometimes, but I'm pretty sure there are a lot of people who live like me who are just so used to it that it's a little odd to cut themselves off entirely. Even if they 'retire,' they still love the company and the community, despite the fact that it's becomes a sedentary one."

"That's nice." Kurt said slowly, "I don't think you could pay me to do it, but… it's a nice thought."

"It is." Blaine smiled, "It's part of the reason I love it so much."

"So, did they just give Puck the boat?"

"Yep." Blaine nodded, "I suppose for them getting rid of it would've been like selling the family home. They raised Puck on it and taught him on it. I guess they pretty much built their whole family on it. Whenever it was that Puck decided he wanted to keep living this way, it must have just seemed perfectly logical to let him keep it."

Kurt felt a small tug in his chest. Though the life of a gypsy was entirely foreign to him, he was touched by the comparable domesticity of it to that of his own upbringing. Had Blaine not corrected him Kurt would have automatically assumed, for no particular reason, that an itinerant existence would also be a somewhat lonely one. That the absence of a conventional community would result in essentially no community outside of the other inhabitants of the boat. It seemed instead, that Blaine's community was simply a sprawling one, broad and vast and paradoxically tight knit.

After all, Kurt may have been living in a small town for three years, but it wasn't often that he felt a part of it. No more than the service he offered in the bakery anyway, and that was a detached and clinical involvement at best.

"What about Tina and Britt?" He asked.

"Tina's been with Puck since the start."

"How long?"

"Five years. His parents knew her parents from their time on the road, but unlike Puck's they only kept at it for a couple of years after she was born. I think Puck and Tina met a whole bunch of times at get-togethers and stuff over the years, and at the last one before Puck took off without his parents they got talking and she decided she wanted to give it a try. I mean, she's been exposed to the gypsy existence her whole life, but always on the edges, so it was pretty tantalising to her. Obviously she really took to it."

"It suits her." Kurt smiled, "And Britt?"

Blaine laughed affectionately, "She's our funny little stray."

Kurt choked on a mouthful of tea, "Pardon?"

"She's only been with us for a little over a year." Blaine's hand had begun moving on Kurt's ankle, stroking it inattentively, his thumb slipping under the hem of his jeans and contacting with his skin from time to time, "We were passing through a town where they were having a weeklong festival, and busking , making as much money as we could while we were there. Tina and I were having a break, just wandering around one evening, and we caught the end of her fire twirling. I mean, you've seen it, it's breathtaking. We left her a little bit of change and were standing around deciding where to go next when she just came up to us and started chatting. I had no idea what to make of her. She kept pulling at my curls and saying that we looked magical. Tina told me that Britt saw her henna tattoos and asked if one of her parents was a _butterfly_. I honestly couldn't tell if she was on something or fucking with us, but she followed us back to the boat, and we let her sleep in the spare bunk for a night and she just… didn't leave."

Kurt giggled, "Is she always like that?"

"Absurdly spaced out?" Blaine asked, "Yeah, pretty much."

"And you just let her stay?"

"Yeah. It took all of about a day for us to figure out that she's almost impossible to dislike, and once we'd realised that she was just… eccentric, she was a joy to have around. This'll probably sound more crass than it's supposed to, but there's nothing like fresh blood either. Even though we're constantly on the move, our lives run the risk of getting stale as much as any other."

"Do you know where she came from?" Kurt asked.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" Blaine sighed.

"She's never told you?"

"Not really." Blaine shrugged, "We've asked, but I don't think any of us have ever got a straight answer. She told_ me_ that she'd been living in the trees, which coming from her could mean just about anything. Maybe she'd been camping and living in the woods or something, but I have no idea."

"Why won't she tell you?" Kurt said quietly, rapt.

"Another mystery. Maybe she was escaping from something and didn't want us to know, or maybe she's completely oblivious to how cryptic her answers are. It doesn't matter to me either way, but if she's trying to forget about her old life and came with us because she wanted to move on from something, then I guess she's totally entitled to her secrets. Every now and then I wonder if she'll just leave us one day without a word, but she seems pretty happy to be a part of our weird little family, and I adore having her around."

For a while they were silent, Kurt seeing parallels between his own situation and what may have been Britt's. He left Lima to start anew, and Brittany's choices, though unclear were possibly just a more severe reaction to the same need to _get away_.

"You know," Kurt grinned shyly, "I think you're all kind of strays."

Blaine snorted, "Maybe, yeah. And what about you?"

"No, I'm housebroken." Kurt said imperiously.

"Bourgeois." Blaine teased.

Kurt laughed, "That's me."

He bent down and placed his empty mug under the bench, gnawing nervously at his lip. He took a breath and asked the most harmless version of the many questions he was dying to know the answers to.

"How long have you been travelling?"

Blaine looked up at Kurt. His expression wasn't guarded as Kurt had expected it to be, but it _was_ wary. For a second Blaine held Kurt's gaze as if studying him, and Kurt tried to keep his air open and undemanding as he stared back. Eventually Blaine swallowed, exhaling almost imperceptibly.

"About three and a half years."

"How did you meet Puck and Tina?" Kurt ventured.

Blaine fidgeted slightly, "I wasn't just Puck and Tina then." He said evasively, "They were with another girl called Quinn back then, too."

Kurt waited for him to continue, when he didn't, gently adding, "And?"

"And… I'd been traveling around on foot by myself for a few months." Blaine said carefully, "Just hitchhiking with a backpack. I'd been walking along the river for a couple of days, and they just happened to have stopped on my path. I got talking to them, and Puck and I got really drunk. Like, wasted. I think we even smoked at least a pack of cigarettes that night, which trust me, you'll never ever catch me doing again, but my health was probably the last thing on my mind."

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows, trying and failing to decipher that throwaway statement.

Blaine continued, "Anyway, it had seemed like the best idea at the time, just sitting and chatting and smoking and drinking and _relaxing _and not really focussing on anything important. Hoofing it around America isn't nearly as comfortable as the alternatives, and I remember how _good_ it was to let loose for a night. I think Puck was glad to have some male company too."

Kurt laughed, "Really? From what you've told me it sounds like he has an unhealthy appreciation of the fairer sex."

Blaine's eyes remained cautious, but he allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, "Between the sheets, definitely. As much as he cares about Tina and Britt and probably still cares about Quinn, I think the femininity was getting to be a bit much for him."

"I'm guessing the lavender wasn't his idea, then?" Kurt gestured to the pots.

"No, they were mine." Blaine beamed in spite of himself, "Do you like them?"

"Mm." Kurt hummed, "So, you tricked Puck into thinking you'd butch the boat up a bit, and he let you stay with them?"

"Hey!" Blaine cried, "I'm plenty butch, I just… like flowers. But otherwise, yeah. That's pretty much how it went."

"What happened to Quinn?"

"She fell in love." Blaine said simply, shrugging one shoulder.

"I… what?" Kurt asked, lost.

"She fell in love with a guy in one of the towns we spent a little time in, and she decided to stay behind with him."

"Oh." Kurt said softly, a thrill running up his spine that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Yep." Blaine grinned, "Stuff of fairy tales."

"Why…" Kurt hesitated, before completely ignoring the part of his brain that was urging him not to push, "What made you start travelling?"

Blaine's face fell again, his lips pursing together. Kurt thought he looked like he was rapidly trying to come up with a way to talk himself out of answering.

"Why don't you want to tell me?" Kurt asked gently.

"I…" Blaine exhaled a burst of air through his nose, avoiding Kurt's gaze, "It's just…"

Blaine groaned in frustration, finally looking imploringly up at Kurt with troubled eyes.

"Do you trust me?" Kurt almost whispered.

"Don't – " Blaine began sharply, his shoulders slumping as he scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, sighing, "Of course I do Kurt."

"We haven't known each other very long." Kurt offered, "I'd understand if you don't."

Blaine reached up quickly and grabbed Kurt's right hand in both of his, "I do. Okay? I do, and I'm pretty sure you trust me, too."

He hadn't phrased it as a question, but Kurt nodded anyway.

On the day he met Blaine, suave, needling Blaine who at first appeared to want nothing more from Kurt than to make a profit from him, he couldn't have trusted him less. Kurt was stunned by how fast that initial impression and suspicion had melted away, leaving him with an inexplicable blind faith in him. A conviction that made him _want _to open up to Blaine. Want to tell him everything about himself, from the pink cat shaped night light his dad had got for him when his was six years old and scared of the dark, to the way he felt like his very heart had been wrenched from his body when his mum had died, only to be slowly hauled out a second time as he helplessly watched his father weaken and waste. He wanted him to know that in his life he'd loved _so_ much, _so_ deeply, friends, family, pets, places, without ever actually being _in love. _He wanted to tell Blaine that until he came along, he hadn't kissed another man in over three years, and in all that time he hadn't wanted to.

He wanted to hold him, look in his eyes and confide in Blaine _every last thing_ that he wouldn't dream of telling anyone else. Wouldn't _dare_. He wanted to make himself completely vulnerable in Blaine's presence, come to the heavenly realisation that with him it didn't feel like vulnerability, and _sigh_.

Kurt trusted Blaine to such an extent that the mere word didn't feel nearly substantial enough to cover it.

He wrapped his own hand and Blaine's with his left one, and squeezed firmly to emphasize the unquestionable sentiment that he didn't fully understand, let alone know how to vocalise.

Blaine squeezed back just as hard, his hazel eyes seeming to flash for an instant.

"I _will_ tell you Kurt." He said with what looked like painful certainty, "I will. I don't… I just don't want you to think that it's that important." He stuttered, eye's locked with Kurt's, "I mean, it _is_ important, but right now it doesn't matter and I don't want it to. I want… I want you to get to know me before I tell you."

Kurt blinked, "Can I? Is it even possible for me to get close to you when I have no idea which parts of your life are off-limits? I… I don't think I know how to do that, and handle you with kids gloves at the same time."

"You won't have to." Blaine murmured, surveying their tangled hands, "You can just treat me the same way you have been, and then… and then I'll tell you how I got here."

Kurt struggled vainly against his stubborn streak, weakly asking, "But… why?"

Blaine looked up at him again, eyes dark, voice steady, "I don't know if you'd want to get to know me if I told you now."

Kurt felt like the contents of his chest had dissolved, raining on his bare hands and feet and making them prickle and itch. His fingers flexed around Blaine's, almost certainly painfully tight.

"Blaine…" His voice was virtually inaudible.

"I really want to see where this goes." Blaine said rapidly, "I want to keep seeing you, and I don't want that to end because of – "

Kurt interrupted, "Blaine, I wouldn't ever – "

"Please, Kurt." Blaine said, eyes unimaginably wide.

Kurt gazed down at him and swallowed. He honestly believed that there was nothing that the Blaine he'd been getting to know could tell him about himself that would cause Kurt to discard him, but if Blaine wanted him to wait for a while, then he would.

For a while.

"Okay." Kurt breathed, and Blaine relaxed before his eyes.

"Thank you." He said, "I know it's kind of a lot to ask."

"It's nothing." Kurt smiled feebly.

"Not to me."

Blaine extricated one of Kurt's hands from where all four of them were resting on Kurt's knee, bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles, gently, his lips remaining on Kurt's skin for at least five seconds before he pulled away, leaving his skin both hot and cold and burning.

Kurt's frail smile grew at the contact and he reached out, ghosting his free fingers lightly over a few of the curls at Blaine's hairline.

"There's room for you up here, you know." Kurt patted the small expanse of bench to his right.

A broad grin began to form on Blaine's face, "Yeah?"

"Well, you can stay on the ground if you want, but the offer's there." Kurt said loftily.

"Yep!" Blaine cried loudly, springing to his feet, and crashing onto the seat next to Kurt.

They were close, arm to arm, and Blaine immediately laid his palm over Kurt's knee, keeping his eyes fixed on Kurt's. Kurt felt like they were sharing some silent communication, the two of them carefully monitoring for any sign of hesitancy or _stop_ or _moremoremore_.

Kurt reached out and coiled his left arm around Blaine's waist, and Blaine reacted by angling his body sideways on the seat and further into the embrace. Kurt's hand came to rest on the small of Blaine's back, enjoying the feeling of Blaine's body beneath the thick, gaudy excess of his cardigan. He loved the sensation of hard muscle under the thin layer of soft cushioning, and gently dug his fingers in.

Blaine inhaled a tiny breath, moving his own left arm around Kurt while bringing his fingers up to brush over Kurt's cheek. His eye's left Kurt's for an imperceptible second to glance down at his lips.

Blaine leant in a little, voice husky, "I want to kiss you again."

"Do it." Kurt murmured.

He braced himself as Blaine leant in, pressing his lips warm and firm against Kurt's, before responding with equal pressure. His other arm found its way to Blaine's waist too, holding him tighter as Blaine cradled his face.

After a moment he felt Blaine's tongue on his bottom lip, and parted his lips willingly, the warm sensation of it against his own making his breath catch, and the faint scrape of Blaine's stubble sending a thrill through his body.

When Blaine pulled away Kurt kept his eyes shut, waiting for his breathing to slow down before opening them to wide amber irises and an obvious blush on Blaine's face that he was no doubt mirroring.

Kurt dragged his hands around to Blaine's front, grasping handfuls of his cardigan where it hung open on either side.

"I can't – " Kurt began, pausing to gather his blurred thoughts, "I don't think I can remember the last time I had a day that was _this_ good."

"Me either." Blaine blurted, throwing his arms around Kurt's shoulders and pulling him to his chest in a slightly frantic hug.

Kurt buried his face in Blaine's shoulder, closing his eyes again. Blaine's cardigan had a vaguely mothball-y smell about it that evoked age and history and preservation, like everything on the boat seemed to do. It was comforting and solid. Immobile facets of a mobile life.

"You know," Kurt mumbled into Blaine's shoulder, "It looks like a unicorn was sick all over it, but I might just grow to like this cardigan."

Blaine laughed, the sound rumbling loud in Kurt's ear where it was pressed against him, "If you ask nicely, I'll let you borrow it."

"Okay." He breathed.

Kurt couldn't stop himself from being put at ease by the notion that he and Blaine would have the time to grow together in _any _way.

* * *

><p><em>[AN Damn, now I want to kiss someone on a boat._

_SO, I can't believe I haven't mentioned this before (at least I don't think I have... my brain's a sieve) **soundsaboutright** wrote a lovely little dreamy one-shot after reading chapter three of this fic and feeling the need to make Klaine tango. It's called **Move With Me**, and you should definitely check it out if you're interested._

_As always, thank you for reading, and if you have any questions, queries, whatever: **ohmygodstopit(.)tumblr(.)com**_]


	7. Chapter 7

_[A/N Oh, gosh. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, whenever life decides to get hectic, fan fiction is the first thing to hit the back burner. Siiigh._

_Um... yesterday someone on tumblr asked me when the next chapter would be up, and I said today... but it wasn't finished, and I felt guilty and simply chopped this chapter in half. As a result, there is less internal Kurt-iness than usual, but next chapter is half written and loaded with the absent inner monologue :D  
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_Hope you enjoy. Hope the hiatus isn't driving anyone too mad. Thank you to all who've read and reviewed!]  
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><p><em><em>'... I would teach my feet to fly.'

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><p><em>Blaine shifted, lying back so that his head was nestled in Kurt's lap, his knees crooked and legs dangling over the arm of the short bench in Kurt's yard. For a moment Kurt's hands hovered indecisively, unsure of where to settle. He <em>wanted_ to put them on Blaine. One in his hair, and the other across his chest. He wanted to feel his radiating warmth, and the rise and fall with each of Blaine's breaths. So he did. Because he could. Blaine smiled up at him, tilting into the fingers twining in his hair, and covering Kurt's other hand with one of his own. _

_Kurt held Blaine's affectionate gaze. They still weren't entirely relaxed in each other's presence, still figuring out their respective comfort levels. It had only been a few days since their 'first date' after all, and most of their movements around each other were tentative and testing, leaving space for pulling back or moving away if either of them wanted. Neither had ever done so, but the overly polite intimacy remained. Kurt serenely noted that it never felt awkward though, just considerate. He had wondered a couple of times if maybe they were being_ too_ considerate, but couldn't bring himself to broach the topic. What if it hadn't been long enough? What if Blaine disagreed? What if he accidentally made it awkward by suggesting it and ruined everything? What if he was just being a _complete idiot_ and he had absolutely nothing to worry about? _

_Yeah, that was probably it.  
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_Humming happily, Blaine settled himself further into Kurt's thighs, then asked, "Okay, when's your birthday?"_

"_The twenty-seventh of May."_

"_Oh." Blaine said, his face falling a little, "Every time I ask someone that I secretly hope it'll be the time I get to say, 'that's _my _birthday, too!'"_

"_No luck?" Kurt pursed his lips to keep from grinning._

"_No, I'm twelfth of June."_

"_Well, we're both Gemini's. I think that's supposed to be a good sign."_

"_You actually believe in that stuff?" Blaine raised an eyebrow._

"_Not really. I mean, as far as reading the star signs whenever I get the paper. You don't?"_

"_Ah, no…"_

"_I bet you skip the star signs and go straight to the comics." Blaine glanced away for a second, and Kurt let out a bark of laughter, "You do, don't you? I better not be about to get a lecture on why not to believe in astrology from a _Garfield_ reading, pseudo hippie who lives on a boat."_

"_It sounds like you've been making assumptions about me." Blaine hummed._

_Kurt fidgeted uncomfortably, "I hardly believe that you guys use the stars as your compass or anything, but I _have _been getting a distinct whiff of the new-age." _

"_Shame on you." Blaine mock pouted, squeezing Kurt's hand._

"_Oh, I'm sorry, Blaine 'Henna and Fire Twirling' Anderson." _

"_I wish my middle name was that exotic. But, no. I leave that 'pseudo hippie' stuff to Tina and Britt. For all I know Britt wrote the book on spaced out, alternative philosophy. She's possibly a closet savant. Or a reincarnated guru."_

_Kurt sighed dramatically, his head falling back, "I've made a mistake. I've courted the wrong gypsy."_

_Blaine snorted, batting at Kurt's arm, "Firstly, I'm pretty sure you were the courted. Secondly, I was under the impression you weren't particularly interested in soft and curvy and female."_

_Kurt wrinkled his nose, "Not so much."_

"_Good, because I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I don't quite fill that criteria."_

_Kurt slowly traced his finger over a prominent vein on Blaine's exposed bicep, "Oh, you'll do." He cleared his throat, taking a deep, calming breath, "Moving swiftly along."_

"_What was the name of your best friend in high school?"_

"_Mercedes Jones."_

"_Was your best friend in fact a car?"_

"_What?" Kurt laughed, "No, she was a human." _

_Blaine toyed with Kurt's fingers, lifting them one by one and letting them drop again with small pattering noises, "Okay, what's your favourite colour?"_

"_Green."_

"_Just green?"_

"_Well… lots of greens."_

"_Mint green?"_

"_Mhmm."_

"_Pea green?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Emerald green?"_

"_Yes, Blaine. Lots of greens."_

"_Forest green?"_

"_Forest green _is_ lots of greens. It's a forest." Kurt said exasperatedly, "Next question, Spanish Inquisition."_

_Blaine mouth twisted into a playful smile, "First kiss?"_

"_I'm sorry?" Kurt coughed._

"_Who was your first kiss?" Blaine sang._

"_I'm not sure I want to tell you." He murmured._

"_Why not?" Blaine wheedled._

_Kurt chewed his bottom lip, blushing, "Well_… you're _the man I'm kissing now."_

"_Doesn't that require your lips to be on mine?" Blaine smirked._

"_Don't get smart. It's far less attractive than you may have been led to believe." He paused, smiling cheekily, " And that situation can be arranged. My lips are just up here."_

_Blaine's eyes widened for a moment, flickering to the lips in question, "As thoroughly tempting as that is… why don't you want to tell me?"_

"_I dunno." Kurt shrugged, "It'd feel weird talking about it with you."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yes. Really."_

"_I don't feel weird at all. I mean... around you."_

_Kurt blinked, his stomach fluttering strangely. He brushed his fingers softly along Blaine's hairline. Blaine reached up, catching his hand, and pulling it down to his lips, kissing it lightly, the warmth of his breath tickling the sparse hairs on his knuckles. He kept Kurt's hand against his closed mouth and Kurt felt like his whole body was about to sink through the bench and trickle into the gravel at his feet._

"_I… I don't either." His voice was suddenly husky, and he cleared his throat before continuing, "It's just… on the scale of embarrassing past experiences, I'm pretty sure first kisses sit somewhere between wetting the bed, and having your parents lecture you about the birds and the bees."_

_Kurt felt Blaine smile against his skin, his voice slightly muffled, "I'll tell you mine. My first kiss, I mean."_

"_Could I convince you not to?"_

"_No."_

"_Okay, go on then." He relented._

"_Samantha McLean."_

"_Sam-_antha_?" Kurt cried._

"_Mm." Blaine nodded, his hair bunching at the back against Kurt's legs, "I was eight. She cornered me in the jungle gym at school and forced herself on me."_

"_The little harlot." Kurt whispered._

"_Yeah, I seem to remember not being very happy about it."_

"_I should hope not. Just _think_ of all the cooties."_

"_Ah, cooties." Blaine said wistfully, "Every pre-pubescent kids worst nightmare. Anyway, I screamed bloody murder and ran into the boys bathrooms, where no girl dared follow."_

"_Thank god for that social convention."_

"_Thank Miss Styles for giving Samantha a stern talking to and making her write lines for the rest of lunch."_

"_What did she make her write?" Kurt asked incredulously, "'I will not molest poor, defenceless boys who have little to no interest in the touch of the fairer sex?'"_

"_It was probably more like, 'I will respect the personal boundaries of my fellow students.' I imagine it was a bit of a handful for an eight year old. And as for the fairer sex, I'm pretty sure I still thought my, um… _disinterest_ in girls was more to do with my preoccupation with Pikachu and _The Lord of the Rings _than the fact that I'd rather have been kissing boys."_

"_The Lord of The Rings?" Kurt teased, "Really?"_

"_Don't poke fun." Blaine attempted to writhe away, but quickly gave up when Kurt's arm remained firmly over his chest, "Actually, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I had a raging crush on Aragorn."_

"_That's not strange at all." Kurt said sarcastically, grinning._

"_Hey, he happened to be an extremely dashing fictional character."_

"_What is wrong with you?" Kurt giggled, "Were you one of those little boys who spent all his time holed up in the library?"_

_Blaine shook his head, saying wistfully, "If I was, maybe I'd have been able to avoid young Samantha's boundary flouting lips."_

"_Wait a minute." Kurt said loudly, "Is that why you're a gypsy? Because of _The Lord of the Rings_? Have you modelled your whole life on a secret desire to constantly travel and assist short, hairy men in their mission to destroy garish, malevolent jewellery?" _

_Blaine sat up before Kurt could restrain him again, and twisted to face him, glaring harmlessly._

"_I'm beginning to think you don't take me very seriously."_

"_Of course I do… sometimes." Kurt grinned, only hesitating for a second before taking Blaine's hand again, "Would you rather I did?"_

_Blaine's eyes remained narrowed for a moment longer, before softening, and crinkling at the edges as his lips quirked upwards._

"_Actually, no." He said warmly, "I get the feeling you've spent far too long being serious."_

_Kurt furrowed his brows, "And I get the feeling you only think that because you've spent far too long being frivolous."_

_Blaine gave him a searching look, his smile slipping slightly, "No." He said quietly, "I really haven't."_

_Kurt's frown deepened and he cocked his head, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the back of Blaine's wrist as he found himself entirely unable to interpret Blaine's expression._

"_I do take you seriously." He stated firmly, "You know that, don't you?"_

_Blaine's smile returned, full force, "Mhm." He murmured, cupping Kurt's cheek lightly, "Even so, I like to think that maybe I've been introducing you to a little _extra_ frivolity."_

_Kurt gaped indignantly, "Blaine, I have plenty of friv –"_

_The rest of his sentence was cut off as Blaine leant forward and kissed him, his mouth slightly open as he laughed against Kurt's lips. He pulled away before Kurt had even gathered enough wits to respond, keeping his face close as his thumb smoothed over Kurt's sideburn._

_Kurt swallowed, the peppermint tea they'd drunk ten minutes earlier still evident on their shared breath, "Um…" He swallowed again, eyes fixed on Blaine's, "Is this a new definition of frivolity that everyone's been cruelly keeping from me?"_

"_Uh huh." Blaine purred, adding a lingering kiss to Kurt's suddenly blazing cheek._

"_Okay. Frivolity's good." Kurt said breathlessly, "I like frivolity."_

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><p>"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?"<p>

Kurt looked up from the tray of Danishes he was arranging to find Rachel standing over him, hands on hips and eyebrows nearing her hairline.

"What are you talking about?"

Rachel sighed patiently, "The past couple of days you've been walking around the bakery like the cat who got the cream."

Kurt looked away again, "No more than usual."

"You've been working here for three years." Rachel deadpanned, "You don'tusually have a big dumb grin on your face from nine to five."

"I'm sorry?" Kurt said acidly, "Forget the three years, I've never had anything big or dumb on my face in my life." He paused, adding under his breath, "Unless you count the time your boyfriend mistook me for a hugger."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Kurt, you were doing it just a minute ago!"

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were. Your eyes are all glazed over."

"Speaking of glaze," he said evasively, "do you mind if I put a couple of pastries aside to take home tonight?"

"You never eat pastries." She stated, "And stop avoiding the question."

Kurt stood, peering down at Rachel and crossing his arms over his chest, "Rachel, I've always suspected you were slightly deluded, but this is the first time in a while that I've felt the need to point it out."

"Tell me what the cream is!" She blurted loudly, voice shaking a little with repressed enthusiasm.

"_What…?"_ Kurt stared, gaping, "Do you ever actually listen to yourself?"

"No one likes the sound of their own voice as much as I do." She said dismissively, "Now tell me why you're so happy!"

"_Fine_." Kurt burst out without thinking, "I've been seeing someone."

"You… _what_?" Rachel's brow sank like a pebble.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me."

"_Who?"_

"You don't know them." He shrugged.

Rachel studied his face for a moment, hands on hips, "You're lying."

"I beg your pardon?" Kurt straightened to his full height, glaring.

"How can I not know them, Kurt? I've served every single person in this town. Is it like, a secret thing? Are they…" She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "are they in the closet?"

Kurt blinked, "You're so offensive."

"You don't have to give me a name." Rachel said, honey toned.

"Really? Because it doesn't really feel like you're about to let it go."

"_Please_, Kurt." She begged, making him cringe.

"Look, you _don't_ know them, they're completely out, and they aren't from here." He counted on his gloved hand.

"What, like long distance?" She pushed, "How did you meet… Kurt, did you meet them on the internet, because that's –"

"No! Please stop talking." Kurt cried, "I'll tell you, just stop."

Rachel smirked, letting out a happy yelp and leaning on the counter.

Kurt glowered, "Is this a tactic of yours? Annoy me until I can't stand it anymore and tell you just to shut you up?"

"If you think I'm going to dignify that with an answer – "

"So, _yes_ then…" He mumbled, "Have you been down the river lately?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"And I'll take _that_ as a 'no.'"

"_Kurt_."

"There's a boat of gypsies down there."

"Gypsies." Rachel frowned.

"Travellers, whatever." He waved a hand dismissively, "They've been there for a couple of weeks. You've probably seen them in town? Two guys and two girls?"

"Does one of them have a Mohawk?"

"Yeah, that's them."

"You're dating a guy with a Mohawk?" She wrinkled her nose, "I really didn't think that would be your type."

"Do we have any duct tape?" Kurt asked lightly.

"What? Probably, why?"

"I'm trying to think of a way to make you actually keep quiet for a second."

"You can't _gag_ your boss!" Rachel shrieked.

"I can dream." Kurt sighed.

"Anyone else would have fired you years ago." She said matter-of-factly.

"Then I'm lucky I have you." He drawled.

"Thank… you…?" She said slowly, "Anyway, I'll be quiet. I'm quiet. My lips are sealed." She mimed turning a key in front of her mouth, tucking the imaginary object into the pocket of her apron.

"Can I have that key?" Kurt asked, opening his palm.

"It isn't _real_ Kurt." She murmured through the corner of her pursed lips.

"I… forget it." He shook his head incredulously, "But, no. I'm not dating 'a guy with a Mohawk.' The other man. Brown curls? Stubble? Hazel eyes?" He paused, frowning thoughtfully, "Well, I _guess_ they're hazel. It doesn't really cover it, though. They're sort of light brown, and he has these really long eyelashes – "

"Kurt!" Rachel said loudly, waving a hand in front of him, "Come back to me."

"What?" He started, "Shut up. I've had to listen to you talk about how nice Finn's arms are for fifteen minutes at a time, I think I'm allowed to get a little carried away."

"I'm sorry." She said warmly, "It's just… it's new."

"What's new?" Kurt snapped.

"You. Like… this." She extended her arms toward him in an expansive gesture.

"_This?"_

"Smitten." She grinned.

"I am not sm – " He froze, his brain finally catching up with his compulsive need to refute or question almost everything Rachel ever said. His shoulders slumped, and his hands flew up to cover his face, "Oh god, I _am_. I _am_ smitten."

"It isn't a crime Kurt."

"Well it should be." He grumbled.

"Um… why?"

"Because then maybe I'd be able to stop _thinking_ about him for five minutes, and I wouldn't be wandering around like some kind of… some kind of heart sick _zombie_, and then I wouldn't be standing here having this ridiculous conversation with you and using terms like '_heart_ sick!'"

Rachel stared at him for a few long seconds, before bursting out laughing.

"It's not _funny!"_

"No, not at all." Rachel gasped, holding onto the cash register as she composed herself, "Um, no. So, what's his name?"

"Blaine." Kurt sighed, immediately cringing at his disobediently wistful tone.

It had been a week since Kurt had first kissed Blaine. A week of seeing Blaine when he could. A week of tea, and dangling their bare feet off the side of the jetty, and walking with new, nervous, sweaty hands clasped together as they escorted each other the few hundred metres between Kurt's cottage and the boat; the boat and Kurt's cottage. A week of light kisses, and hard kisses, and pecks, and open mouthed, _oh god I need more, will this ever be enough_ kisses that stretched for minutes and hours and years. A week of Kurt's hands in Blaine's hair and Blaine's hands in Kurt's hair, and once, just once, Kurt's hand under Blaine's shirt, and all over Blaine's skin in the way that Blaine was so completely under his, like an itch, like a burn, like a balm.

And that week, _all _that week, had been so abruptly perfect that Blaine had successfully ensconced himself in every corner of Kurt's consciousness, and even (on the mornings when he awoke with twisted sheets and sweat soaked skin and a delicious, hard ache between his thighs) his subconsciousness.

"You know, I think Finn may have mentioned him at some point." Rachel said, "He told me there was a short guy in a hat trying to sell him a necklace for about five minutes the other day. He eventually gave in and bought it."

"Oh…" Kurt blushed, "Yeah, that's Blaine."

"From a capitalists point of view, I'd congratulate you on snagging yourself a good salesman, but I have a feeling Finn panicked, and only bought it to make him leave him alone."

"That sounds like Blaine too…" He murmured, "And Finn, for that matter."

"So, when can I meet him?" Rachel asked, "Wait, why haven't I met him? Why haven't you introduced me?"

Kurt groaned, "Rachel, are you about to make this about your own myriad ridiculous insecurities?"

"No…" She said quietly, scratching her arm, eyes averted.

"Thought so." Kurt said, his voice softening, "You will meet him, just… give me a bit of time. _I _only just met him."

"But… I'm your best friend." She offered, eyes preposterously wide.

"Yes, you are." Kurt squeezed her shoulder, "And you're loud, and you're pushy, and you're overzealous. It's why I love you, but it takes a bit of getting used to."

"I _can_ tone it down, you know." She paused, "I think."

Kurt smiled, "I don't want you to."

"You… don't?"

Kurt took a deep breath, brushing at the little bit of flour he'd left on Rachel's shirt. This was actually something he'd been thinking about a lot. He'd tried to avoid doing so, but the matter kept nudging at him and shaking him by the shoulders.

Blaine had swiftly become a part of his life. A big, colourful, overwhelming part, in the same way that Rachel was an impatient, raucous, part and Finn was an innocuous, calm, _calming_ part. Over the space of a week he'd realised that each of those parts felt oddly separate. Finn and Rachel were intrinsically connected to Kurt's life in Ainslie, whereas Blaine felt somehow detached from Ainslie. Whenever Kurt was with him, he got a sense of being taken out of the town. Lifted up and away and into a realm of contradictory nonchalance and vitality. He assumed it stemmed from the very idea of Blaine and his friends' lifestyle, and he liked it. It was exciting. Inexplicable and new.

And he'd ignored it. Turned a blind eye to that rift between Blaine and Ainslie, because he had no idea how long Blaine _in_ Ainslie was going to last, and to think about that… that was just too much for Kurt to even begin to know how to handle.

He knew that if he skirted asking Blaine about his departure for long enough, Blaine would most likely be the one to bring it up, giving Kurt an answer he possibly didn't want to hear, but for once in his life he felt compelled to experience the fabled bliss that came with ignorance.

Staring at Rachel's excited, expectant face, he supposed he should at least attempt to reconcile the life he shared with his friends with the life he'd begun sharing with the man he was seeing.

"Rachel." He sighed, "I'm not going to ask you to behave any differently when you meet him. I want him to meet _you_. Okay? I want you to be unintentionally rude to him, and bore the hell out of him, and I want you to annoy him so much that he realises it's one of his favourite things about you and starts coming up with his own ways to annoy you back."

"Oh." Rachel smiled a little, "That's… oh. Really?"

"Yes." Kurt said briskly, not surprised that she'd latched onto the veiled compliment, and turning back to the tray of Danishes, "Just give me a chance to warn him first, okay?"

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><p><em>[AN So, next chapter shouldn't be long coming. Hope you didn't mind that half of this was Hummelberry..._

_Thanks for reading!]_


	8. Chapter 8

_[A/N One day I'll learn how to pump out tidy, short chapters... until then, have this! Momentarily maudlin, and quite a bit fluffy._

_Also! _**soundsaboutright **_has drawn some positively gorgeous fan art for this story, all of which is linked on my tumblr (**ohmygodstopit (.) tumblr (.) com**) for anyone who wants a squizz. Beautiful Klaine kisses and multicoloured cardigans._ _I died._

_Thanks for reading!_

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><p>'He tried hard to help me, you know, he put me at ease...'<p>

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><p>Kurt didn't go straight to the boat that afternoon, rushing home and jumping in the shower. He'd always been one to care about his appearance, even on long days at the bakery shovelling loaves in and out of sweltering ovens, and getting dough almost irreversibly lodged under his nails.<p>

One of the effects of unexpectedly finding himself in a relationship was that he found himself caring even more. A sensible voice in his brain told him that Blaine was unlikely to care if he turned up on the jetty in tattered overalls and three day growth, yet every day after work he'd rush home, style his hair and choose _just the right_ pair of jeans and_ just the right _shirt or sweater.

Most days he'd pause whilst gazing in the mirror and mouth _what are you doing_ to his wide-eyed reflection, before shrugging and continuing to preen. It wasn't that he saw any fault in his increased attention to detail (it was as much for himself as it was for Blaine) it just surprised him. It had been years since he'd been in a relationship, and he'd forgotten that particular impulse toward perfection.

Still, at least he didn't have to bother matching shoes to any given outfit, leaving the house in bare feet again as he had done every day since their first date, his soles already becoming immune to the stab of the occasional sharp stone that belligerently lay in his path. The regular application of sunscreen hadn't staved off the slight darkening of his skin that came from spending so much more time outdoors, or the conspicuous multiplying of the freckles that sprinkled his shoulders.

He smiled as he neared the boat, simply at the thought of being near Blaine, talking with Blaine, sitting in silence with Blaine. It was all so effortless. They didn't even have an exceptional number of things in common, their upbringings only superficially similar, and many of their interests differing wildly from the other's. Instead of breeding estrangement, all of Blaine's dissimilarities made Kurt even more eager to discover everything there was to know about him.

Blaine had a profound curiosity toward everything around him, questioning Kurt at length about his baking, and his garden (or lack thereof) and his family, and in turn Kurt scrambled to learn about Blaine's crafts and trades and talents. Subjects he wouldn't have had any reason to spare a thought for less than a month earlier. They all captivated him in such a stunning, vital way.

As the boat came into sight, he looked up in anticipation, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in the six people milling around on the jetty.

_Six? Why were there…_

He sped up, internally cursing.

Rachel. The small brunette standing in front of Blaine was Rachel. Finn was skulking on the shore, his hands in his pockets and his bottom lip wedged between his teeth, seemingly reluctant to actually step foot on the pier.

He looked up as Kurt drew closer, taking a couple of steps forward and raising his hands in what Kurt hoped for Finn's sake was supplication.

"What the hell – " Kurt began darkly.

"It wasn't my idea, Kurt." Finn said, guilt painted all over his features, "It really, really wasn't my idea."

"Of course it wasn't your idea." Kurt growled, staring at Rachel where she was talking animatedly with Blaine and Tina, "What does she think she's _doing_?"

"I have no idea." Finn groaned, "She came out the back after you left this afternoon, and started squealing about how you had a gypsy boyfriend or something, and then got all excited and dragged me down here to meet him, and… you didn't want her to, did you? I knew it, she's meddling. This is like that time I asked her to rent _Die Hard_ for me and she came back with _A Walk to Remember _and spent all night crying on my shoulder."

"No." Kurt hissed, "This is nothing like that. This is ten times worse than that."

"Dude, it was pretty bad."

"It was _pretty bad_ that she went and told you about Blaine. It's _inexcusable_ that I specifically asked her to wait for me to introduce them, only for her to completely ignore me. I should have _known _she'd do this."

"You really should have."

"Finn, you're not helping."

"If it's any consolation, I probably couldn't have stopped her if I'd tried."

Kurt looked back at Finn's apologetic face, relaxing a little, "I'm sorry. I know. It's not your fault she's a sociopath with selective hearing."

"She's not that bad…" Finn mumbled.

"You _have _to say that, she's your girlfriend." Kurt sighed, "I, on the other hand, am going to eviscerate her, so if you want her in one piece by the time I'm done, you should probably come with me."

He stomped onto the jetty, Finn falling into stride just behind him.

Why was he so angry? He hadn't been lying when he said he wanted Rachel to meet Blaine, but there was something in her complete disregard for his wishes that left him fuming.

And made his stomach squirm.

No. He wasn't_ angry_. He was _nervous_. He was nervous about two parts of his life merging. Finn and Rachel were the closest thing he had to family, and he'd planned to brace himself for this moment, only for Rachel to go ahead and sidestep it and leave him to wing it.

Blaine looked up as he approached, his face splitting in a radiant grin, as Rachel turned to face them.

"Hey." Blaine waved.

"Hi." Kurt said warmly, some of his irritation seeping away, before meeting Rachel's gaze and sneering, "Rachel, this is Blaine. Or have you already met?"

"Um… we have." She said cautiously.

"Really?" Kurt chirped, "That's funny. I seem to remember telling you I wanted to be the one to introduce you. Did you forget? It was about two hours ago."

Rachel took a step towards him, turning her back on Blaine and speaking in a stage whisper, "No, I know you did, I just wanted to… I mean… it was going to happen sooner or later, Kurt."

"And you didn't think that maybe I wanted it to be later because later might be better?" He hissed, Blaine looking quizzically between the two of them.

"How is this worse?" Rachel asked.

Kurt groaned, "Because… because… god, I don't know, just forget about it. It's too late now. Please, behave. And don't talk to them about me."

"What? Why?" Rachel cried, lowering her voice immediately, "What am I supposed to talk about?"

"Maybe you should have thought of that before." Kurt crossed his arms, "Besides, you don't usually have any problem thinking of things to say about yourself."

"Oh, good point…" She blinked, before leaning in a little closer and grinning, "He's really cute Kurt. Like, really cute."

"Shh, I know." He said, forcing his smug grin down as he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed, "Just… no gossiping. If you tell them anything about me that I haven't already told them myself, I'm going to burn every batch of bread from here 'til Sunday and lace the desserts with salt."

"A hollow threat, but point taken." She nodded, turning back to Blaine and the others.

They were both struck comically silent for a moment as they spotted Finn and Puck. The two of them had just ceased shaking hands, and were chatting animatedly as they walked towards the boat together, Puck bursting into laughter and punching Finn solidly in the shoulder.

"Well…" Kurt cocked his head, "Looks like someone's made a friend."

"He's well trained." Rachel sighed happily.

"You're awful."

"I know."

Previously, the very thought of being in close proximity with Blaine, while also having to mediate Finn and Rachel had brought Kurt into a cold sweat, yet already he'd managed to shake responsibility of Finn, and he hadn't even been trying. He allowed himself to relax a fraction more.

He turned back to Blaine, who was still watching them patiently, "Sorry, where were we?"

Blaine smiled and stepped in, putting an arm loosely around his waist and kissing him on the cheek, "I think we were taking care of, 'hi.'"

"Oh, yeah." Kurt breathed, taking Blaine's hand as he released him, "Hi."

"I was just introducing Rachel to Tina and Britt."

"Nice to meet you." Rachel chirped, "I've heard all about you."

Kurt snorted, "She's heard nothing about you. Not for lack of trying though."

Rachel blushed, glaring at him, and Tina tutted and held her arm out, "Plenty of time for that." She glanced at Kurt and Blaine standing chastely, but shooting coy looks at one another, "Do you want to come and see the boat, Rachel? Cup of tea?"

Rachel's face lit up as she trailed after the other two girls, and Kurt swore he heard her gasp, "You can make _tea_? On a _boat_?"

Now that he saw her in the presence of Tina and Brittany, he actually felt an overwhelming sense of contentment, and a small amount of pride. He loved and cared for Rachel dearly, and he already knew the other two girls to be indiscriminately welcoming. Rachel had almost as few close friends in Ainslie as he did, and even fewer female. He had very little doubt that the cheerful look on her face as she stepped onto the deck was reflected and magnified on his own.

Once they were gone, Blaine asked, "Why do I get the feeling I just met the parents?"

Kurt laughed, nudging Blaine's shoulder with his own, "I just started feeling a little bit paternal myself."

Blaine gazed at him, "Looks good on you."

"Of course it does."

"Come here." Blaine whispered, putting a hand on Kurt's waist, pulling him closer and kissing him lightly. A small, audible sigh escaped the back of Kurt's throat as his hand fisted in the front of Blaine's shirt.

Blaine pulled away, his lips venturing gently to Kurt's jaw, and Kurt murmured, "For the record, if we'd done this in front of my real dad, it's possible he'd have maimed you with a tyre iron."

"I seriously doubt that." Blaine breathed against his neck.

"He'd have at least been thinking about it."

"And for some reason I still wish I could have met him."

Kurt gasped, taking hold of Blaine's shoulders and holding him at enough of a distance to look searchingly at his open, honest expression. He didn't doubt for a second that Blaine had meant what he'd said. It hadn't been a line, or some false admission to earn Kurt's approval. The ardent look on his face, and his tender eyes erased any possibility of that, and Kurt moved a hand to cup his cheek.

"Really?"

Blaine smiled shyly, glancing down briefly, "Yeah, I mean… I feel like I have a few things I could thank him for."

All the breath in Kurt's lungs escaped in a sort of desperate half sob, his arms clamping around Blaine's back as he crashed their lips together. Half way through Kurt realised that that particular kiss felt a little like a turning point. There was nothing guarded about it, and no polite hesitation in the warm slide of his tongue against Blaine's, or the pressure of Blaine's hands against the small of Kurt's back. Chest to chest, and thighs flush against one another, barely space for air to pass between them as Kurt laced the fingers of one hand in Blaine's sun warm hair.

They were interrupted from the boat by an ear piercing wolf whistle, and broke apart reluctantly to, on Blaine's part, glare, on Kurt's part, furiously blush. Puck, obviously the perpetrator, was giving Finn a high five, while Finn at least had the decency (_and intelligence,_ Kurt thought irritably) to look slightly guilty while he laughed.

Blaine turned back to Kurt, "You've created a monster."

Kurt laughed, still a little breathless, "Oh, this is my fault is it?"

"Definitely."

"I'll have you know that Finn is the perfect approximation of a gentleman at _least _sixty per cent of the time. I'm blaming Puck."

Blaine smirked, "Which in turn makes it my fault, I guess?"

"I'm going to have to deal with Rachel's complaints that her boyfriend has reverted to a high school jock, I think you deserve at least some of the fall." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Okay." Blaine sighed exaggeratedly, taking Kurt's hand and moving to the edge of the jetty, "Come sit for a minute before I have to play co-host and pretend that I want to be spending time with anyone other than you right now."

Kurt bit down the incredulous _where did you come from and how did I find you _that was sitting on his tongue, and followed, lowering himself next to Blaine, and hanging his legs off the pier.

Blaine leant into Kurt's side, warm and solid, tracing circles on the inside of his wrist as he said, "I could have been completely misreading that little exchange before, but it seemed to me like you didn't want Rachel and Finn here."

Kurt swallowed, watching Blaine's fingers, "I… no. I didn't. Not yet."

"Why?" He whispered.

"It's nothing."

"Kurt…" He drew his name out, "Why?"

He wouldn't have brought it up if Blaine hadn't. Would have delayed the following conversation as long as he credibly could, but once Blaine was asking, gently and encouragingly, he couldn't find it in himself to deny him, or lie. Had to let it out. Let it _between_ them, whatever the consequences and regardless of his concerns.

"Kurt?" He repeated, craning to catch Kurt's gaze where it lingered evasively on the bright, reflecting water.

Finally, he looked up, knocked off-guard by the concern and attention in Blaine's vivid eyes.

"It's… I was… I don't know. Protecting myself."

Blaine's brow furrowed, "Protecting yourself… from me… meeting your friends?"

"No. Yes." He flapped his hand dismissively and took a calming breath, "Blaine, this feels like it could break at any moment, and I try not to think about that, but I can't get past it."

Blaine's face fell, deflating as if Kurt had pricked him with a pin, "You mean _us_? What? _Why_? I thought… I mean, I thought we were, you know, good together. Better than good together. Really good together. Did I… have I done something?"

Kurt scrambled for Blaine's hand, clutching it with both of his when it felt like Blaine might pull away, "No! It's nothing like that. We are. I can't believe how good we are. Like, I'd actually pinch myself if it didn't feel like such an obvious cliché."

Blaine was silent for a moment, "I'm… really confused."

And he looked it. His eyes wide and _sad,_ so openly dejected and crestfallen, like he couldn't have hidden it from Kurt if he tried. His cheeks were abruptly red, his mouth downturned and slightly open as he scrutinised Kurt's face, flicking from eye to eye, searching for whatever answer they might unconsciously surrender.

"I'm not doing this very well…" Kurt murmured.

"I'm all for giving second chances." Blaine breathed, offering a frail smile that didn't meet his eyes, "Try again. Please."

"I live here. My life is here, my friends are here, I have a job here. Ainslie is my home. You… your life and your friends and your livelihood are on that boat, and that boat is always moving. Everything about you is always moving on and finding new places. I wish I could ask you to stay here with me, but I can't. It's too early. It wouldn't be fair. So… I just don't know how long you'll be here and how long we'll have the chance to be together, and it scares me. The idea of you meeting Rachel and Finn scared me, because it makes two more people who'll know just how utterly devastated I'm going to be when you eventually move on. And I could just bite the bullet and ask you _when_, but that scares me even more, and I don't want what we have to become some sort of ticking time bomb where I'm miserably counting down the days until I know you won't be here anymore, and I'll be left here alone again with Rachel and Finn treating me like I might dissolve or shatter or just curl up in the corner at any minute. I didn't want that. I _don't_ want that."

"Oh." Blaine blinked.

"Yeah."

He looked down at their hands, "Would you actually curl up in a corner if I left?"

"I don't know yet." Kurt smiled weakly, "Give me time."

"I don't know when we're leaving." He said quietly, "When… when I'm leaving."

"I told you, I don't want to know." Kurt gushed, "So, you are going to leave." It wasn't a question.

Blaine took a deep breath, "I… yeah, I guess."

"Okay."

For an instant Kurt wondered if Blaine's urge to keep moving was due to the past which he had still yet to divulge, but quickly staunched that thought. Their exchange was complicated enough already without choosing that moment to bring it up.

"Do you… are we done?" Blaine's voice was suddenly so small it was almost inaudible, "I mean… do you want to stop seeing me now?" It cracked on the last word.

"No!" Kurt cried, squeezing Blaine's hands roughly, "Of course I don't."

"Why?" He looked up, eyes glassy, "We don't know when I'm leaving, but we both know I am. Like you said, that's my life. Why would you want to keep this up if it could just make it worse for both of us? For you."

"Because, the only thing worse than being with you for a finite amount of time, is not being with you and knowing that you're still down here on your fucking boat, while I'm sitting in my sad little cottage missing the hell out of you and wanting nothing more than to be down here on your _fucking boat_." He bit his lip, blushing at the passion in his voice.

"In your sad little cottage, curled up in a corner?" Blaine asked, smiling in earnest.

"Yes, okay?" Kurt admitted, "I would curl up in a corner."

"You realise that doesn't actually make me happy?"

"Well too bad. You asked, and I told you even though I didn't mean to, and now I feel really pathetic."

"Please don't. You aren't. The boat is a little short on corners, but I'm pretty sure when we leave I'm going to spend half my time face down on my bunk with the curtains closed and the lights off."

"Don't say that, Blaine. That just makes me feel worse."

"Now we're even." He smirked.

"Why doesn't that feel at all satisfying?"

Blaine extricated his hands and wound his arms around Kurt's waist, pulling him close so his head was nestled soundly under Blaine's chin, "If I knew all four of us could hold some kind of steady job here, I promise you I'd stay."

"Really?" He asked, voice slightly muffled against Blaine's sweater.

"I would… even… I don't know, maybe I can't promise that. I don't think I could just _leave_ those guys."

Kurt steadied his voice, clinging to Blaine's gentle honesty and the obvious truth behind his distress at having to leave. It didn't lessen the ache he felt, but it did help him deal with it, "I wouldn't want you to. Not for me."

Blaine chuckled, "Kurt, why else would I stay here?"

"I just mean, I'd feel awful if you left your friends and your home to stay with _me_. We haven't even known each other for a month."

"It doesn't stop leaving from feeling any less wrong, though. Regardless of how long we've known each other."

"Maybe…" He paused, "I think maybe that's enough for me right now. Just knowing that. Not that you're _unhappy_, I definitely don't like that, but knowing that I mean that much to you too."

"You do." Blaine kissed his hair, hesitating for a second, "I feel so close to you, that the amount time we've known each other doesn't really seem to matter."

Kurt smiled, goose bumps breaking out on his arms and neck, "Maybe we just haven't spent enough time together to realise that we actually hate each other."

"Yep. That's it. I secretly loathe you."

Kurt shifted in his arms, gazing up through his lashes, "Will you come back?"

"Whenever I can." Blaine squeezed him tightly.

"What if you meet someone else?"

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

"I won't be looking."

"But… if you do?" Kurt urged.

"Then I'll politely decline." He grinned, running a firm hand up and down his side, "What if _you _meet someone else?"

Kurt snorted, "I've lived here long enough to know that's not going to happen."

"What if… what if one day you're walking home from work and there's a boat docked here, and some annoying, persistent, gay gypsy follows you home, and you hit it off and start spending a ridiculous amount of time with each other?"

Kurt laughed, "You forgot 'handsome.'"

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, and ducked his head, burying it in Kurt's chest.

"And 'charming.'" Kurt added.

"I don't like this guy." Blaine mumbled, his breath hot through his shirt.

"I do."

"I don't want to go." Blaine burrowed further, completely hiding his face.

Kurt slid a hand in his hair, "I don't know what to say to that."

"I really don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go." Kurt relented, willing his eyes to stay dry, as he rested his cheek on Blaine's curls.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You don't have to be."

"I can't help it."

Kurt put both his hands on Blaine's cheeks and urged him gently upwards until their faces were level. He ran a thumb across the soft skin under his eye, and leant in, kissing him sweetly and slowly, their lips dry and powdery, speaking silent volumes of _I wish this was easier, I wish we could fix this, I need you, I need you._

Blaine pulled away first, keeping their faces so close that Kurt could still feel his lips brushing his own as Blaine spoke, "Can we… can we postpone this conversation for a while? I don't know when we're going, but the farmers haven't given us any reason to think they'll be done with us any time soon."

"Okay." Kurt breathed, closing his eyes, asking, "Is this going to change things? Is this going to be weird now? Like, a relationship with an expiration date."

"No. Not for me."

"Good." He stole another brief kiss.

Blaine sat back, brushing a hand through Kurt's hair, pushing it up and off his forehead, "Shall we mingle?"

"Do we have to?" He groaned.

"Kurt, let me meet your friends." Blaine coaxed.

"Fine. But, if Rachel starts talking about herself too much feel free to tell her to zip it, and if you bring out your instruments, be prepared to have your voices completely overshadowed by hers."

"She sings?"

"Yes. Really well. If you tell her I said that, I'll have to hurt you."

"Why does that seem unlikely?"

Kurt stuck his tongue out, feeling uncharacteristically childish as he stood and hauled Blaine to his feet, struggling with his deliberate dead weight for a moment, before Blaine pounced up and stumbled into him, laughing. They walked to the boat hand in hand, stepping on board as Tina emerged from the cabin with a plate strewn with apple slices, crackers and cheese.

She smiled warmly, "Come on boys, there are a couple of drinks with your names on them waiting on the deck. Better claim them before Puck and Finn do."

Kurt felt a delighted tug at hearing Finn's name fall so casually from her lips, as if his friend had already been accepted into their fold. He hadn't suspected that he and Rachel wouldn't be, but it thrilled him nonetheless.

They followed Tina to where the other four were sprawled on blankets across the planks of the boat, and settled themselves in a gap in the circle, Blaine's arm snaking around Kurt's back and Kurt's hands grasping Blaine's rough, bare knee. Kurt attempted to get the gist of the current conversation, though it seemed Brittany was the only one who had any idea what they were talking about.

"When I was little my mum used to read me bedtime stories about a family of mice that worked in a bakery." She said to and obviously confused Rachel, "Do you have mouse helpers?"

"Definitely not!" Rachel cried, glancing around for a sign of whether Britt was serious or not.

"Oh…" Brittany's face fell a little, "That's sad… they don't look like they'd eat much. You could just pay them with bread, and let them sleep in an empty cupboard."

Puck cleared his throat, suppressing a grin, "Britt, the mice around here have pretty simple tastes. I think they prefer to sleep outside."

She perked up, "Okay, then. If that makes them happy."

Kurt giggled and leaned in close to Blaine's ear to whisper, "How long did it take you to get the hang of navigating a conversation with her?"

Blaine smiled, his lips brushing Kurt's ear, sending a shiver over every inch of his skin, "I'm still not quite there. Sometimes she comes out with the most coherent, profound things, but the rest of the time we sort of play it by ear. It's more fun that way."

Kurt, feeling Rachel's eyes on him, turned to look at her, finding her peering at him with an indecipherable expression on her face.

"What?" He asked, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

"I can't believe I didn't guess you were seeing someone sooner." She shook her head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just look so different."

"Different how?" He prodded.

"I don't know, just different."

"Great. Thanks for that." He rolled his eyes.

"No, dude." Finn nodded, "She's right. You look… brighter."

"Um…" He furrowed his brow at Finn's unexpected insight.

"Happier."

"I wasn't _un_happy before." He insisted.

"No, I know what they mean." Tina smirked, "Blaine's the same. I keep thinking I should tie a long piece of ribbon around his ankle in case he floats away into the clouds and we lose him forever."

Kurt raised his hands, "As delightful as it is to talk about my love life in front of our nearest and dearest, can we please change the subject? Britt, I believe you were talking about mice?"

She cocked her head, scrutinising Blaine's hand where it was lazily clenching and unclenching in Kurt's shirt at his waist, "I don't think I've ever met a gay mouse. But it's hard to tell, isn't it? They all just look the same. Cute and grey. Maybe _all_ mice are boy mice."

"Okay, forget that." Kurt widened his eyes, "Puck? I think we could use some music, don't you?"

Rachel laughed, "You're adorable. Don't worry, I'm done." She turned to Tina, "So, where are you guys all from?"

Kurt zoned out Tina's already familiar story, watching as his old friends became acquainted with his new, and smiling amiably. After a couple of minutes, he twisted to look at Blaine, only to find Blaine's eyes were already firmly fixed on him, dark and hooded.

Kurt's lips quirked crookedly, and he raised an eyebrow in question.

"I've changed my mind." Blaine murmured, eyes now on Kurt's lips, "Manners are overrated. I hate manners. I hate mingling."

His smile grew, "What else did you have in mind?"

"To avoid the risk of coming on too strong, let's just say I want my lips on yours, and I'd like to keep them there for quite some time."

Kurt leant in closer, lowering his voice as far as he could, "At the risk of coming on too strong, I think we can aim a little higher than that, don't you?"

"Maybe not. I'm having trouble breathing and talking at the same time right now."

"Oh?" Kurt teased.

"Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?" Blaine purred.

Kurt's breath caught, "Come to my house after work tomorrow."

"It's sweet of you to ask, but I was going to anyway."

"I wasn't asking."

"Sorry, I retract that last statement. I think you've ventured beyond sweet, now."

"Are you complaining?" Kurt asked, stomach coiling hotly.

"No." Blaine whispered, "Never."

* * *

><p><em>[AN Okey dokey... things are going to get smutty soon. Feel free to jump ship if that isn't your cup of tea._

_Again, thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing!]_


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